


Out of this World

by love2imagine



Series: Out of this World [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Marion Zimmer Bradley for Darkover, Mistakes, and The Third Marauder for Detoxification, elrhiarhodan http://archiveofourown.org/works/832135, mine, they belong to Jeff Eastin. Story mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 139,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love2imagine/pseuds/love2imagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon to Season 4/5, around Shot through the Heart. Diana is not pregnant.  Neal, Peter and June are taken captive in a surprise raid. Not a typical slave story. Some references to violence off-screen, I believe one bad swear word, not in this chapter!</p><p>This became a long story, many chapters (completed, just not posted.) I decided to post the first chapter to gauge response, as I know many people don't like long stories (I do, and seldom write short one! Talk too much, I guess!) and many original characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Merchandise

**Author's Note:**

> White Collar characters and background belong to Jeff Eastin.  
> Story, original characters and mistakes, all mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to ayam for her help with spellings and typos and help in general! Thank you (take back the T-shirt off the bush!)

The tall nobleman paused at the heavily barred gate. He turned and gazed in an absent-minded manner back up the dirty, squalid, cobbled road. An observer might almost have assumed, from his demeanour, that he had strayed to this spot by accident. But this man hadn't arrived here by chance or mistake, though few of his birth or standing would have thought of doing so.

While his man exchanged rough-tongued insults with the gate guards, he pondered on his reasons for being at this spot, wishing that he didn't have to enter the dark, menacing passageway beyond the gate. And how very ungrateful to be so reluctant when at least he did so by choice ....

"Master Caerrovon," started the neatly-bearded man, suddenly at his side, "we are now privileged to be made free of this wonderland." Steel permitted himself a small, grim smile at this humour, and they left their retinue at the gate and entered in, past the opened gate, down the passage that echoed with their footsteps, as though, thought he, all the dead walked with them, heard but unseen. As they emerged from the dark, the usual racket and bustle assailed them, and Steel drew in air through his teeth. His man glanced sideways at him, knowing that his Master's impassivity was hard-won, and wishing that he would not indulge this personal crusade.

His face set in a contemptuous mask, Lord Steel walked disinterestedly along the rows of ‘floors' - areas swept clean by human bodies alone in most cases, though in the more up-market rows, the Slave-hounds washed the floors down from time to time, the better to display their wares. Steel spared hardly a glance for the first four rows of wretched living merchandise. He had learned through bitter experience to school himself. These belonged to the Slavers in the market for quick gains: they did not look after the miserable samples of foreigners, most of whom were therefore on the verge of collapse. Added to the poor conditions was physical and mental abuse: it was unlikely to find anyone who could be saved, here, or who would be worth saving.

Steel had tried, when he was younger and more optimistic. It hadn’t ended well, he didn’t have the means to heal the deeply wounded and they had caused havoc with his household. When a young and angry man attacked a woman he had made the hard decision to do what he could for those who could be helped, and fight the rest of the problem another way. On the whole, they had been more fortunate since that day.

Abruptly, the floors increased in size, the noise level dropped from a shrieking frenzy, and Steel was able to think. The Slavers and their Hounds still called for him to observe this one’s teeth, that one’s fine stature, but there was now a thin skin of mock refinement covering the crudity and sordidness. Steel was nearing the exit, at once smelling the reprieve from the miasma of human misery and exasperated that he had put up with it for an hour for nothing. Then they turned so they were facing the last T-junction, and at the end was a tableau so unusual that Steel stopped abruptly.

These floors were kept for special slaves. Ones usually marked for those owners looking for powerful men to be gladiators or personal fighters; to the left, pretty young females – sometimes males – scantily dressed in diaphanous apparel, powdered and scented, for buyers with specific tastes; sometimes slaves with particular talents: athletes, musicians and the like, usually attractively presented.

Straight ahead sat a very dark-skinned older woman of obvious refinement, though her doubtless original and beautifully-fitting clothing was grubby. Her chin was raised, she stared straight ahead like a queen. Steel had seldom seen a skin such a dark brown, the locals were of a type: blonde and fair-skinned, but with the slavery laws other types were becoming more commonplace. And many of the Slavers and their Hounds were now of mixed blood because, well, they were the product of the rape of slaves being brought to market and not accepted in other professions.

The woman was in herself unusual, her attitude unique, but occupying the floor on either side of her stood two men, unlike her and unlike each other. Hard to believe they were the same species, yet Steel did not need his rather weak and erratic empathy to feel the bond between the three. Each man stood angled away from the woman, shoulders straight, every quietly aggressive nuance visible in their demeanour, like mismatched knight-protector bookends, guarding their queen.

He glanced off to the side and saw that Iftal was the Slaver. He often claimed the best floors. Steel had done reluctant business with him before. He walked closer, and noted that while the woman…lady …ignored him, both men were watching him with hard, challenging eyes. In a less disgusting place, Steel would have allowed himself to be amused. They had both been in very good physical shape when taken, the taller, heavier man would probably end up as a gladiator, the smaller, leaner man perhaps an athlete, acrobat, yet neither was heavily chained. Often that was done as shrewd promotion to draw attention to the slave’s power and reined aggression. This odd grouping drew Steel, and he stopped before them.

Affecting a bored tone, he inspected his beautiful finger-nails and asked, using Cortican Standard with ease “Are you staging plays, now, Iftal?”

Iftal washed one hand in the other in a gesture innate to all slavers of Caerrovon's unwelcome acquaintance and said, just a hint of obsequiousness in his voice, “A pretty trio, is it not? I chose not to separate them, yet, as they are best kept this way. The men were so much trouble, I thought to castrate them as soon as they were sold to me, but as long as they are kept with the woman, they remain docile.” Steel wondered if that was the adjective he would have used, glancing at the fury almost vibrating in the men’s muscles as they glanced around their surroundings, returning to watch him. Many of the slaves on these floors were resales: slaves bred in captivity or well-trained in places designed to groom them into compliance and hone their abilities and their usefulness. Good slaves, slaves that fitted themselves obediently into new households. Seldom found here were what the Slave-hounds called Fresh Meat.

Steel himself seldom bought any resales.

“A pretty scene,” Iftal repeated. “But, if you, great Lord Steel, are interested in any one, or two, then you only have to ask…”

“I only came with the idea of buying one, and if, as you say, they are a set and more trouble than they are worth once the set is broken…”

“No, no, they are no trouble, they will be no trouble – “

“Yet you keep the lady,” Steel nodded briefly to her, but she didn’t acknowledge the sign if, indeed, she saw it, “for the single reason that she somehow calms the wolves?”

“No, no, she is a talent, she sings beautifully! Truly, she can sing! You would be transported, Lord Steel!”

“But I assume her voice is only beautiful in the presence of two young warriors?” Steel inquired, raising an eyebrow, and was rewarded by a fleeting expression of pure frustration on the Slaver’s face. “Where are they from? I have seen no other slaves of their type.”

“A new market, Lord Steel. Very exclusive. Wonderful merchandise! You would be among the first!”

“Then perhaps they are physiologically bonded? Like the slaves from Hersaltior, mated couples die if separated? Fascinating.” His jaded tone sounded anything but. Iftal shrugged. However, Steel was not as bored as he seemed, nor as oblivious to the slaves. Though the lady remained impassive and the heavier warrior stolid, the slender man’s eyes had been following their exchange: though his face remained set, the fire in his blue eyes waxed and waned.

“May I observe these interesting new acquisitions more closely?” Steel asked. “On the understanding that I am looking for only one, and almost certainly not one of these, from your story?”

“Go ahead, of course, of course, Great Lord,” Iftal smiled his horrid smile. “And I will have the surgeon ready if you should choose one or both of the men.”

“You will never sell me a castrate, Iftal,” Steel said, managing to keep his voice level.

“No, no, there are others who feel the same way, which is why I like to give the choice to the new owner. Please, inspect them, Great Lord. You and I have done much business in the past, and will again.”

“Do not, Master,” Brak begged under his breath. “Please, let us leave.”

“I am curious, that is all,” Steel told him, wondering if this was true. It was so seldom he saw Fresh Meat slaves that were not in shock, in deep grief, drugged by chemicals or pain from beatings or injuries. And there was something tantalising about these three…

He stepped up onto the slave floor and walked to the lady and bowed a little. He didn’t try and speak to her, but drifted over to the man who appeared younger, and had been more aware of what was going on between him and the slaver. Brak, his hand hovering over his dagger, followed closely.

The man didn’t raise his chin but his eyes, filled with impotent hatred, stared up into Caerrovon’s. They were truly beautiful eyes. The man was a little thin but with care would be physically perfect, other than some whip-scabs and yellowed bruising over his shoulders. “You understand me?” Steel said, softly.

“Yes,” he said, low and cold.

“Who is the lady you protect?” There was a spark in the light eyes, and he lifted his face for ten seconds and looked straight at Steel’s soul. Steel smiled a little, appreciatively.

Slaves were trained never to be so bold.

“You wear a – a show-sword,” Steel heard him say, though he was struggling with vocabulary, “a man of right, goodness. If such, Sir, (something) sword and take … lives…lady first.”

“What knows the likes of you of my Master’s honour,” snarled Brak in a whisper, though Steel tried to shush him. “

“Nothing, you, (something) my only play. This – ” Steel was understanding him better, now, and he used an epithet gleaned from the Slave-hounds vocabulary, indicating unadulterated hatred of Iftal and questioning the species-specificity of the sexual habits of all his ancestors  “ – will sell her, and cut us, yes?”

“That is a likely scenario, yes,” Steel nodded. “Apparently you and your…partner …” he gestured with a head-twist at the taller man who was watching, but not understanding, “…have made it almost imperative that you both be castrated.”

“Not slaves!” he spat back quietly, answering Steel’s tone rather than the words. “Are – “ again he used a word from another language, struggled and said “ – stolen. We are took...”

Steel sighed. It happened. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did, all the time. He in his turn looked deeply into those bright, angry eyes, extended his awareness to its maximum and asked, simply, “Are you good people?”

The eye-lashes dropped dark shadows on the high cheekbones before he looked back. “Him,” he indicated with his eyes, “good, lady good. ”

“And you?” Steel prodded, unexpectedly amused again.

“Bad.”

“Oh!” Steel shook his head. “Yet the three of you are like a three-cord rope?” He saw the man’s puzzlement and put three fingers together and held them with the other hand. “Strong together.”

“Long and (something)  tell you if ….” There was suddenly a terrible weariness deep in the eyes.

“You are prepared to bet on my honour,” Steel said. “Can I place a heavy bet on yours, and that of your taller and more solid friend?” The eyes flashed, wary. He understood more than he could use in speech, as was usual. “If I take you, all of you…if I can afford your troublesome selves…will you swear, for all three of you, to be no trouble to me?”

The man watched Steel’s hand-gestures as he spoke, and then asked, “You …making game?”

“No.” Steel’s finger-tips touched the gold-and-silver knot on his shoulder, a ritualistic gesture. “On my honour as a Keeper, my family’s name of Steel, no.”

The eyes fell. “Take two. You can then buy, yes? Tell to them and …no trouble.” He said it softly so that Steel had to lean in close and the man’s untidy, filthy curls tickled his chin. Steel waited till the man looked up, eyes now flat and dead. He smiled, and the eyes widened a little.

“Oh, I can see they would be no trouble if I left you to the so-called surgeon’s blade! My name is Lord Steel. What is your name, young man?”

“Neal, my name is Neal.” He mimicked the phrase and accent exactly. At that, both the other man and the woman looked over. Neal said, “Peter, June, Sir.”

“Can you speak to them and ask them for their word of honour to be compliant if I purchase all three of you? Um…if I take you all, will you be good?”

Brak groaned beside him as Neal spoke swiftly to the other two, and received reluctant nods from both.

“Swear, Sir,” Neal said.

“And you?” Steel couldn’t help grinning, something he seldom did at the Slave-market. Neal looked at him and shrugged.

“I try, Sir.”

“All any of us can ever do. Now let me see your back, yours and Peter’s. Was June harmed?”

“No. Feared and the …food and places… bad, but no …hurt her,” he said, and slipped off the dirty, ragged top and turned, calling to Peter to do the same. They had both been severely whipped, but none of it was recent. The wounds were deep, inflamed and some were still weeping unhealthily.

“You will all listen to me and obey me and any I may place over you and treat my household with respect?” Steel almost chanted, again **_reaching_**.

Neal nodded. “Yes.”

“I believe it of them,” Steel told him. “You, hmmm…” The blue eyes suddenly lit with humour, and Steel turned to Brak and spoke quietly in another language. “If you can get them all cheap, put them in the blue suite, after a visit to the bathhouse.”

Then he turned and went to the Slaver, who was leaning forward in excited anticipation of a sale. Steel was surprised he did not salivate, he looked so like a dog waiting for a bone. “You yourself have told me that their bond limits their usefulness and the men have been brutally beaten. I will take them all if you give my man, Brak, a very, very good deal, Iftal.”

“Very good, very, very good,” Iftal nodded. He felt a little relieved. Though so exotic, the three had become an oddity, something for buyers to observe but not bid on. Still, he should make some profit, and even if he took a loss, he’d free up the slave floors for more saleable merchandise, and keep the strange Lord Steel, who regularly bought slaves, happy. Steel turned and pinned Neal with a glare to fit his title, and walked out. He stood outside, breathing deeply, much relieved to be out of that filthy, misery-drenched atmosphere, though the air was far from fresh here. Two soldiers, Pey and Tomn drew up and they walked to their horses and, leading Brak’s mare, they rode off towards home.

 

Not too long afterwards, Brak shepherded his new charges into the same sunshine and the same air, and similarly, they breathed as though they hadn’t dared do so for a long time. They blinked, looking about. “You!” barked Brak, and the three jumped with expectation of pain, but saw he was gesturing to a nearby urchin, who ran and found a rather tatty wagon with a tattered horse in the shafts.

“I apologise, but we need to get you clean and clothed,” he told them, Neal translated as best he could and the wagon conveyed them to a bath-house set up specifically for such occasions. The three bathed and basic clothing was provided. Brak stayed with the two men, the lady was escorted off by one of the women and came back dressed in a long gown that was not a perfect fit, but was clean.

She smiled a little at Brak, and shook her head when he tried to ask her if she had everything she needed, but Neal came out of a change-room, dressed all in brown and she made a face at him and he shrugged and said something to her. When Peter joined them, they went back onto the street and Steel’s carriage, with four young, beautiful dappled horses, was waiting for them.

It had a crest on the door, and Neal said, “Slaves … this?”

“No, not usually. My Master has developed a soft-spot for your Lady June.”

Neal apparently translated this to her, and she smiled, and Peter handed her into the coach as one born to it.

“I see why (something) wash the…um…dirt?”

“Yes,” Brak agreed, dryly. “Usually we make our way home in another public conveyance; I was surprised to see the carriage.”

The carriage was well-sprung and Neal said something to Peter, there was a slight disagreement, and Neal asked if they could sleep, they were very tired. At Brak’s nod, Peter and June leaned back into the deliciously soft cushions and were very soon breathing deeply. Neal stayed awake, taking note of the surroundings as the light faded from the sky.

“First watch, hmm?” Brak asked. Neal shrugged a little. “Let me take this chance of ordering you and pleading with you not to run away, any of you. It is obviously your first thought. But the laws are yet vicious in the extreme, and I will not have my Master hurt by your torture and death. To say nothing of the loss of a substantial amount of wealth he could have used to buy other, less troublesome slaves.”

“Hurt?” Neal’s voice dripped sarcasm. Brak thought he hadn’t understood every word, but the tone was unmistakeable and the slave had picked out a word he’d heard often.

“Yes, hurt. Partially politically: he fights an ongoing battle against the type of slavery that is practised, and his opponents are many and always ready to pounce on any mistake or perceived weakness on his behalf. His youth and lack of funds already place him in a difficult position.

.....“And yes, emotionally hurt, because although he knows you only a little, he becomes…invested much too easily. His youth again.”

Neal pondered this for a few miles, trying to understand when he had not heard most of the words before. Neal himself was fighting to keep his eyes open when the carriage clattered suddenly over cobble stones and he found that they had entered onto a long drive between high, old, stone walls and under some …bridges?…that reminded him suddenly of Venice, a place he had loved, though they weren’t really similar…men called back and forth and then they were in a courtyard.

Peter wakened quickly, reaching to his shoulder, then clenching his jaw. June was quietly awake and alert. Ostlers ran to the horses’ heads, and the door of the carriage was opened. Brak jumped down and made sure the small step was placed for June.

With a hand on Brak’s, she stepped down, a little unsteady on the cobblestones in the new and badly fitting shoes. Neal and Peter got out, and looked round, and their hearts fell. It looked, to all intents and purposes, to be a battle-ready castle, and the closest modern Earth buildings they had seen were high-security prisons.

 

 

End of Chapter 1

Note: comments and criticisms much welcomed! Thanks for reading!

 

 

 


	2. Not what I was expecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> White Collar characters owned by Jeff Eastin. Others, and story, mine...mistakes mine.
> 
> Peter, June and Neal, exhausted from all they have endured, are being treated surprisingly well. Is it a trick?

 

 

 

Brak said, “Welcome to Steel Keep.”

Neal said something like, “Humph!”, Peter growled something under his breath, certainly rude from the tone, but June shot each of them a quelling look and said something that Neal translated: “Thank you, Brak.” It had been obvious to her what he had said.

The two men looked a little shame-faced but no less suspicious.

“Now?” Neal demanded.

“Unless you have something else, such as the need for urgent medical attention, you eat and rest. Most new slaves are stressed…tired? …exhausted and just need a comfortable and safe place to eat and sleep.

.....“Please tell me, do you need medical attention, is there something else you would like?”

“I don’t … you …,” Neal sighed, “or (something). Are we…are we ….alone? Um…”

“Unless you have objections, we have a suite of rooms. There is a bath, a shower, many new slaves feel the need for extra cleansing, there is a small kitchen, though we’ll provide you with meals there for a day, and there are three bedrooms. If Lady June would need something more private, please tell me.”

Neal eyed him dubiously, not knowing most of what Brak was trying to tell him, but it sounded as though they were going to get to rest, and still be together. He asked a question Brak didn’t understand. Neal tried again, frustrated, “That easy. It …?”

Brak looked at him, trying to guess what the problem was. “It is simple. You rest, sleep, eat, talk, clear your thoughts, do not have to watch for danger for a day, or more if you need it. Sometimes we get people who are in need of healing, then the time period is usually longer.”

“Go, MacDuff,” Neal gestured and Brak gave him another strange look, and Neal shook his head. “Sorry. Not ….”

They were taken to a group of rooms. Peter and Neal immediately noticed that the door was hugely thick and the only windows were high and tiny: no-one other than a small, thin child, perhaps, could climb through them, though there were many that opened and the air was fresh. There were comfy-looking beds, towels on three of them, and strange fruit in a big bowl on the kitchen table.

“This …um?” Neal tried again, “nice cell?”

“It is, basically,” Brak agreed. “You may not leave the Keep at this point. You can come down the passage here, and join us if you wish. We don’t allow easy access for new slaves, well, for untrained slaves…people for whom this is all new. There is a natural and powerful wish to escape and run and please believe me that it would be suicide. You are not marked as claimed yet, you would be run down and the penalties, as I told you, are grievous. So we make it clear that you are not to leave your rooms yet – though you may join us for a meal if you wish.”

“Us?” demanded Neal, again understanding the gist of what Brak was saying, if not all the words.

“The family. When you’ve rested. I think the two of you have been at attention for days if not weeks, and Lady June is not a filly. Rest. It is not a trick. Lord Steel wishes you to rest and …get better. We will bring food in a little time.”

Peter and June were already walking round the rooms. June soon lay down on one of the beds, kicking off her shoes. Peter tried the tap in the kitchen and clean water issued from it. Brak smiled a little. “The water is safe, good.”

“So they all say,” Neal murmured to himself in English, nodded to Brak and closed the door.

About ten minutes later there was a knock on the door and Peter opened it to find Brak, accompanied by two girls wearing aprons over some sort of pant-suit, their hair neatly tied up, were standing there, bearing trays of food. At a disadvantage due to the language barrier, he stepped back and smiled at the girls, and the three came in quietly and put the trays down on the kitchen counters. There was a big pot of something hot, otherwise it was baskets of bread, plates of something that might be a type of cheese and the like, at least to his best guess.

Neal staggered from one of the rooms and said, “Oh! Thank you.” The two girls smiled at him and Peter made a face Brak couldn’t read. Then to Brak, quite pleasantly, “You guard?”

Brak was puzzled. “We just think it’s nice for new people to see a familiar face and not new ones all the time. It’s hard enough as it is, isn’t it? This man is named Neal, girls, and this is Peter, and Lady June is probably resting. Thankfully, Neal has picked up some Cortican Standard.

...“This is Tamlin,” he gestured at the taller, slightly darker girl, “and this is Shiral,” to the other.

They smiled again at both the men and said, “Welcome.”

“You slaves?” Neal asked.

The girls giggled at his accent and nodded. “We belong to Steel,” Tamlin said, smiling. “We belong here.”

Once the slaves had left, Neal and Peter stood looking at the food. Neal found some cloths and put the pot on the stove to keep warm, inside was something that looked like stew and smelled wonderful. They tried the cheese-stuff, strangely sharp, and the bread, strangely rich, and had a bit of fruit.

“The slaves seem in good condition,” Peter remarked.

“Yes, but why would anyone buy people – or cattle, or furniture – and not look after them?” Neal asked. “It makes sense that they are healthy and fit.”

“This isn’t what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“A dirty dungeon or something, rats…the ship was filthy.”

“You want rats, filth, that man-slave will probably find you some.”

“No.

...“Thank God you learned some of their language.”

“I’ve always been quick at learning, and I know several languages, it makes it easier, I think, with a new one. Sadly, the words we’ve heard till now were limited mainly to threats and curt orders. I will pick up more here, already I have a better understanding of the sentence construction.”

“Mmm.”

Neal looked at Peter. He could see the man was near the end of his emotional and physical resources. “What now?”

“Eat and sleep and bathe. There’s no point in trying anything yet, we aren’t in any fit state. We need to gather information. Then we escape.”

“If they don’t have monitoring anklets,” Neal tried a weary joke and Peter snorted.

“The man was wearing a sword! Not a gun in sight! No cars, no motors. It’s a feudal-type society, I think.”

“Someone came to Earth to get us. Space-travel. Doesn’t fit. The lights aren’t oil or kerosene …don’t know what they are. Likewise the stove…and oven. No wood that I can see. The burners light as a gas stove would.”

“Hadn’t thought of all of that. Too insular, I guess. No travelling to Russia and rural Swaziland. .....“Perhaps there is something here…say gold…that they barter for slaves from more advanced civilisations or populations or planets or something.”

“The head-guy, Steel? – he seems young and naïve enough to tell us anything we want to know.”

They stopped, hearing sounds that could be dogs barking, or wolves or something… “That’s cheerful,” Neal remarked. “All we need.”

They made faces at each other.

“To get back to what you were saying, in your world, Steel’s a mark?” Peter asked, with a trace of his usual scoffing tone.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I am not in anything like my world, and we have no resources here. I can’t call…” he swallowed, “…Mozzie, or Alex, to get intel or aid or Russian surplus grenades to mount an escape. We don’t even know if there’s a place to escape to, let alone how we get off this hell-hole of a planet.

...“But yes, I think we could call Steel the equivalent of a mark.”

Peter smiled sadly. There was so much they didn’t talk about, so many people, so much distress and loss. There was no point. They nibbled a bit more before going to lie on top of their beds, not feeling secure enough to undress. But they were exhausted enough to fall into deep sleep, though nightmares troubled all three of them.

 

It was quite late when Brak found his Lord in his study, slouched in a chair, drinking some tea. He looked across at his sworn man and made a face.

“So, Brak, am I in disgrace? I admit, I was a prey to impulse in purchasing those three. It was probably a very dangerous decision.”

Brak strode in, looked down at the younger man, prepared to exonerate him in the face of such an unequivocal admission and smiled. “Give over, Master Caerrovon! Who am I to judge your choices?”

“Tell me, Brak! For you have always done it, and I am certain today is not the day it will cease! When I was younger, I think I remember your maledictions being made vehemently and often painfully clear!”

Brak grinned a little with the ease of long companionship and settled opposite, then asked, “Would you prefer wine, my Lord?” When Steel shook his head he continued, “You are a victim to your emotions at times, Master, and it was always my wish to spare you grief.”

“You chose short term grief over long term, is that your meaning, Brak?”

“I was usually merely following the orders of my lawful Lord.”

“I remember not you questioning my father, Brak, not even once, yet now you have a new lord and the same rules do not apply?”

They grinned at each other. Steel waved carelessly at the tray, and Brak helped himself to a cup of tea, since there was no ale or wine, and went on, “The lady June is well-bred or has trained herself to gentility. The men are less easy to read. But, Master, I do not think evil people hold each other so dear…at least not in situations where they are all helpless and without resources.”

“I think what you say is true.”

“If they are stolen and from afar…how can you help them, Master?”

“It is very possible that I cannot. However, they would not have lasted intact with a Slaver for much longer. You saw Iftal, he was becoming impatient for his Floors. I believe we can do better for them than their fate with his kind.”

“And for you, for Steel Keep?” Brak puzzled that this seldom seemed to enter into his Master’s calculations.

“Goods in a solid crate, Brak. I know not what I have purchased.”

“I did make a good bargain with Iftal, but a few pence is a great deal of money for a rabid wolf, Master.”

“You think them that bad? I read them as angry and frustrated and grieving…all reasonable responses…but not evil.” Brak shrugged. Steel went on, “I am going to bed. Give them a chance to settle, keep an eye on them. One alone may try and escape. If it were just the two men, I would have grave concerns. The lady is exhausted and they will not leave her until they are sure she is safe and comfortable.”

 

Neal woke, feeling that it was very late. He lay a minute, appreciating the quiet. There hadn’t been a time since they’d been captured that there hadn’t been shouting, wailing, screaming, sobbing, blows and whip-cracks and stomping booted feet. The silence was delightful; he thought he would never take many things for granted again, and that was one of them. The candles they had left alight were burned low, and he lit a new one and blew out the rest.

Late was good. Perhaps most people were asleep and he could find out more about their situation? Peter was snoring loudly… _probably what woke me up_ , he thought, and when he knocked softly and looked in on June, she was turned on her side, out like the proverbial light. He covered her with a soft rug that lay on the chair.

_Thank God we were taken with her!_

He went to the door and eased it open. The stone passageway was silent and lit only by tiny glowing lights of some sort, high on the wall every ten feet or so. Burning torches would have fitted the scene better! These were very white light, some looked almost greenish.

He drifted down on the solid stone, quiet as a shade, and as he turned the corner found a young man dressed all in black was watching him, as though he’d known he was coming.

“Neal?” the man asked quietly, and Neal straightened, feeling a little silly, but prepared to make the most of finding a night watchman all alone – they weren’t usually over-laden with subtlety or brains, in his experience.

“Yes.”

“Oh, good. You’re the only one of the new ones to speak a little Standard, so we can talk. Did you need something?” He spoke slowly and clearly.

“You …?”’ The man looked puzzled and Neal realised he hadn’t made himself clear. He put a hand on his chest. “Neal. You …?”

“Oh! My name is Joster, Neal. You come from far away, another planet, another star, Lord Steel said?”

“Yes.” Neal was a bit hesitant, but thought he understood the question.

“How frightening for you. Do you need anything?” Neal’s body made a bold assertion that sleep was a really good idea. He shrugged and said,

“No. I …you guard?” He put his hand on his chest again.

“No, I’m just a night watch. We’re scattered around the Keep’s corridors, just a few of us, in case. You are not prisoners, Neal.”

“I find Lord Steel, kill?” Neal asked, suddenly annoyed with this pleasantly-spoken, calm young man. Where had they been kidnapped to, Canada?

Joster laughed aloud, then hushed himself as the sound echoed down the stone walkway. “Sorry!” he whispered. “You will not be able to hurt Lord Steel, and all the outer doors are locked for the night, and you know better than to run away before taking stock of your surroundings and regaining your strength. The Lord says you are highly intelligent.”

Neal struggled to follow, and thought he knew what Joster was saying. “How would it know!” Now Neal was being deliberately rude, and felt a little ashamed of himself, but Joster didn’t seem to notice, or put it down to their boorish, outlander manners – again, as Canadians did, he thought, with sudden fierce nostalgia for winter sleigh rides in Banff and summer diving off the coast of British Columbia...a certain romantic cottage in the beautiful Muskoka autumn.…

“Well, you will have to ask him when you see him, Neal. But learning a language, at least to some level? Most people held by Slave-Hounds are just trying to survive!”

Neal gave up, waved a little – which was immediately copied by a smiling Joster – and made his way back. He fell asleep to dream of maple syrup and the swish of skis on fresh powder.

 

The next day after the same three slaves had delivered a very passable breakfast of some sort of fish and root vegetables…and there was still most of the stew left, which June carefully re-boiled…the three were left alone most of the time. Later a woman came with two girls…different ones…bringing a trolley-thing full of clothes and another of shoes and boots. When they let her in she hardly spoke, but asked them, by a hand-gesture, to stand, and walked round them, studying them. She took out what was probably the equivalent of a tape measure and made one or two notes for each of them, and then started digging in the clothing, handing this to one of the girls, that to another, and soon each of them seemed to have several outfits to try on.

She shooed them into their rooms and they suddenly felt better as they tried on clean, soft clothing in nicer shades and showed her how they fitted. They were each left with a pair of strong boots, for outside wear, and two pairs of house shoes, a warm cloak, a few warm hats, and three outfits. June had three long gowns in soft fabric, with long sleeves. The menswear was different from their usual suits, and made Neal think of something between Samurai warrior and Russian clothing: trousers that could be tied above the boots and padded sharp-shouldered, cross-over jackets with high collars over what would have been long-sleeved, soft polo-necked shirts, back home. There were various layers of soft pullover things, which made Peter think that winters here must be cold.

“These do till I make,” the older woman said in a thick accent.

Neal smiled at all three women, and the two girls hung back after the older one had hurried out and asked, “Is this all right for you?” of Neal.

“Much better, thanks to you and your …,” Neal said, falling easily into speaking in the same intonation as they, imitation was his forté. One of them, he himself would tell you.

“She is not much of a talker, Lucilla,” one said. She eyed Neal, then Peter, then June, and smiled. “You look nice. I am glad you are here.”

The only honest response would have been that they weren’t, but Neal smiled gallantly back and forth and said, “I am more glad to being here.”

The girls laughed a little and bore away the trolley.

 

The three looked at each other. “I feel a little like Hansel and Gretel being fattened up by the evil witch,” Peter said, morosely.

“Peter,” June said, “have faith! Perhaps they really are trying to be nice.” June was prepared to think well of anyone who had let her sleep in peace for eighteen hours, even though she was still exhausted. They took turns in the bathroom and at Neal’s suggestion left the bath-house clothing outside the door after dressing themselves – not without some confusion about lacings and buttons – in the newer clothes.

Neal looked at Peter, dressed in a navy-blue ‘suit’ and smiled. “It takes being kidnapped by an alien slave-ship to get you wearing something that really suits you.”

Peter smiled sadly, swallowing the only reply that jumped to his lips. Neal made a sympathetic face, and Peter shrugged. They’d all lost so very much.

“Thank the Good Lord we’re still together, boys,” June said. “I don’t know what I would have done…”

After they’d eaten an early dinner the next night and were actually beginning to feel more…human!... Neal suggested they see what happened if they did indeed walk down the corridor and see if Joster, or whoever stood there now, stopped them.

But Joster wasn’t there. No-one was. They walked cautiously, as had been ingrained into them, close to the wall and slowly and heard conversation. They could smell cooking smells. There was some louder speech, some laughter. Neal frowned. They were speaking a different language to the one the Slaver’s used…Cortican Standard, had Joster called it?

They went to a door, and could see a huge kitchen. Next to it, half-hidden, they could see a large eating area with people seated round a table. One of the serving girls saw them and pulled at someone’s sleeve and Brak leaned his chair back so he could see them, and waved. “Come along! Are you feeling better? Do you want to join us?” This was the same language Neal knew a little.

Feeling that it could only be a good thing to make friends with their fellow slaves, the three walked into the room and into the gaze of about thirty people. June smiled, Peter glared round, gathering information, Neal smiled his charming smile…and then they saw that Steel was seated on one side, smiling at them. They froze, not knowing quite what to do.

“Sit, sit!” Brak pulled out a chair for June and went and dragged two more over for the men.“Wine?” he waved his glass to show what the word meant. “Have you eaten? What would you like?”

Neal repeated it in English. “I’d love some wine, thank you,” June said, and Neal translated it as “Wine?”, with a hand wave to June and himself, and a young man jumped up and brought two glasses for them, and offered Peter some, but he shook his head.

An older woman with her hair tied up in a scarf to keep it out of the way, asked through Neal if they needed any more food, and Brak laughed and went to her, put his arm round her and said, “Let me introduce my wife, Ophera, who is the best cook in the world, and mother to all of us…even Lord Steel.”

“Especially Lord Steel!” the Lord insisted. “Though she seems to believe I should weigh twice what I do now, and works hard to make her beliefs reality!” There was some laughter as Neal told Peter and June something of what had been said, and they all agreed that more food was unnecessary. “You are all looking so much better!” Steel said, encouragingly. “But at least some of that is clothing better than dirty rags!”

Neal laughed and drank a little of the very passable wine, then translated for June and Peter. They looked around, trying to get a feel for the group. Neal, who was excellent at such things, of course, became much happier. He couldn’t understand a lot of what was said, but he could pick up on the body-language, it couldn’t be that different, this was another social, bipedal species, probably feudal. There was no doubt that the slaves really liked Steel. Here he was, eating round the huge kitchen table instead of at his no doubt larger formal dining table, passing vegetables and gravy and being gently deferential to Ophera and June as the senior ladies present. Possibly because of his age…he would have been, perhaps, twenty had they been on Earth…he didn’t stand on ceremony and treated his slaves as family, just as Brak had said.

Some of the slaves were in what Neal thought of as work gear, mostly browns and black, rougher fabric, some wore fancier clothing in lovely colours, embroidered or embellished. Steel was well-dressed, and had his Keeper’s knot worked into every suit, it seemed.

After an awkward quarter-of-an-hour (who knew how they measured time here!) Steel said, “I would ask you to come to the front room, if you are able?” He led them from the kitchen area through another short corridor, up some stairs and into a large room with a huge fireplace in which flared up a welcoming flame. Banff, for sure! Neal thought.

“Sit,” Steel said. We could take him, thought Peter, but better know where we’re going first. Lull him into complacency, that’s the ticket.

“First things first,” Steel said, picking up a carved box. Inside were small pieces of what looked like rubber. “These will make you feel much happier. Help us to speak?”

Neal looked with vast suspicion at these little devices, rather like hearing aids on Earth, feeling Mozzie at his shoulder, screaming. But he didn’t want to believe that, because that would mean that Mozzie was…was….

“They can do you no harm. Many of us wear them because we now have so many foreign languages spoken. They will not be perfect at first, but we can add words to make them work better…what?”

Neal quickly told Peter and June what they were. They all hesitated. Lord Steel grinned. “If you want to wash mine, you can have it, rather. They do not steal your thoughts or show your whereabouts.”

 _They may have already stolen your thoughts, had you considered that?_ Neal did not say. _Perhaps they are like bugs back on earth, recording everything on a computer somewhere._ He seemed to understand Steel better than most of the others…was it an accent-thing?

June gingerly picked the thing up, and Steel gently showed her how to insert it into her ear.

“I’d do anything to be able to talk properly!” she said, and Steel smiled and nodded. “Now you should be able to understand me when I speak, too, my Lady June,” he said, and her face creased in a big smile. “You just need to learn to speak softly, sub-vocalize, the translating-device will speak in the listeners’ ears.”

“I do! How wonderful! How useful if I’d had one in France!”

Steel’s face registered a question. “Another planet you visited?”

“It seemed like it, but no, another…part of our planet.”

Peter and Neal accepted the ear-bugs, as Neal dubbed them, because everything was just too difficult without knowing what was going on. It was a little odd watching someone’s mouth saying something different to what they were hearing, like watching a dubbed foreign film, but they soon got used to it.

“Now,” Steel said, looking at Peter, “do not try to attack me quite yet, Peter. It is not sensible.” Peter jumped. Had his expression been that obvious? He must still be very tired! Steel went on, “What are you both, what branch of policeman or military?”

“Oh,” Neal said, realising that the translator was making a best guess. “We are – well, Peter is, a LEO…Law Enforcement Officer, with what is called the FBI. I was a consultant. June is our good friend.”

Steel tapped his ear, apparently turning his device off and said, “Say again the group you are with…EFeebee something? It does not translate.”

Neal grinned, and said, in English, “FBI, - Federal Bureau of Investigations.”

“Fedral? Bewrow?” Neal said in Cortican Standard, “Over-police-group … lot of rules.”

“Oh,” Steel tapped his ear again, sitting back. “So, like military Intelligence?”

“Policing across the whole country,” Peter said, clearing his throat. “Only within our country.”

“Except sometimes,” murmured Neal, making Peter glare at him. Steel looked up as Brak brought a tray with some snacks and drinks in decanters, and glasses. Neal tried an amber liquid and June sipped a little green glass of colourless liquor. Peter elected to keep his head clear…who knew what these things contained, and even with the best of intentions, this Steel might poison them all!

“How do these work, if we’ve only just got here?” Peter asked. “I mean…”

Steel told him, “If Slavers bring …new slaves, with new languages, they always provide a …list…of words, syntax, grammar, not very comprehensive, but enough in the ear-devices to make a start. Otherwise most buyers would not waste their money. That is why you are only just getting these.”

“A database, we’d call it,” Neal told him. “So these are…programmable…they can take new information.”

Steel nodded. “They …increase what they know? That is what you ask? Yes.”

“You must have been able to understand us when we came to the kitchen, then,” Peter accused, shrewdly. “You were already wearing your device.”

“Yes, I understood your language – Eng-lish? – when you spoke, but I let Neal translate because it confuses and scares new slaves if we seem to understand them suddenly. Too much stress in a very short time, I think. I wanted to explain in person.”

The next thing, two large animals bounded into the room. Neal’s mind said _dogs,_ but when he vocalised it, the translator said wolves, and these weren’t really either. But obviously they took the place of dogs, as Steel commanded them to sit, and they sat, watching the three new slaves with suspicion. They were much bigger than any dog or wolf, with rounder ears and thick, black plush fur and startling blue eyes that put Neal’s to shame. Steel walked them over to the three and let them sniff the new-comers. Because they all knew and loved Earth dogs, the slowly each put out a hand to be sniffed.

“Des and Dam, friends, guard! ” Steel instructed. “Good dogs. Lie, now!” The two followed him back and sat on either side, then lay down and rested. “Do you mind telling me how you were taken?” Steel asked.

“We had been attacked by alien vessels,” Peter told him. “Also humanoid aliens, but bigger than anyone we’ve seen since we were taken from Earth…our planet. Our military was fighting back, all LEO’s…all military-types were working together. We were at work, June came in to tell us something, and another group, not the attacking aliens, rushed in somehow, and though we fought, the three of us as well as many people we didn’t know, ended up on a huge spacecraft filled with all types. Some of us tried to fight. Many were beaten, some young girls were raped, quite a few were killed. We realised it was better, once we were together, the three of us, to be as quiet and calm as possible. We were dropped off here, sold to Iftal, I presume.”

“How long ago?”

June spoke up. “It’s hard to tell. The low, unchanging light, the monotonous, awful meals, the smell, the misery, the fear, we weren’t allowed to converse on the slave ship, the Hounds just whipped people for nothing. They enjoyed it. We talked about it at Iftal's…certainly much more than a month, perhaps more than two.”

Neal wondered how the translator-device had handled a ‘month’.

“I am so sorry this has happened to you,” Steel said, with difficulty. “Slavery should never be forced on anyone. I apologise for some of what, for want of a more accurate description, I will call countrymen.”

“You own slaves,” Peter snarled, despite himself. “You’re advocating ‘consenting slavery’ ? No such thing!” At Steel’s look of confusion, he tried, “You are saying there are people who would choose to be slaves?”

Steel nodded, surprised. “Oh, yes. Our **_laws_ ** are not that flawed. Unfortunately the enforcement has gone sadly wrong. At first, people became slaves because they wanted a life where they did not want to make their own decisions, or because they had, for some reason or another, found themselves unable to look after their families. I have no problem with that. It works. I have many slaves who could walk out the door tomorrow and start an independent life. Their papers of freedom are in my office right now, for when and if they choose to collect them.”

Peter snorted in disbelief, but Neal said, quietly, “Ancient Hebrew law made such a selling of oneself into slavery a respite from poverty, Peter. There are other examples.”

“Ask Brak if he is forced to stay here, I could probably not get him to leave with bombs!” Steel grinned. Then he made a face. “Now it is an industry. Slaves should be people who have few ties, unless the whole family agrees. They should be given the option, the possibility. There should be a contract, a time limit. If they are desperately unhappy, they should be returned, and they should get a financial reward for so and so much service.

...“Then it changed and there were foreigners, from far lands on our planet. At first they were not able to communicate, but we soon found that they were not at all willing. But often we could send them back. Now the situation is worse, people from stars we have never seen!”

“That doesn’t sound as though there’s any chance at all of us ever going home,” Peter said, and laid his head in his hands.

Steel gazed at him, and then at Neal, questioning. “Whom has he lost?”

“His wife. She was not on the ship with us. They are…they are very close. She was at home, not at our work, of course. It was only the merest chance that June was with us.”

“I came to tell you that M…Mozzie had told me he would take me and my family away from the fighting in the city.”

“I am so sorry, Peter. You have lost more than most.” Steel’s voice was soft. “And we will try and find a way back, but understand how difficult…I will have to put the word out, try and find which species chose to go with an arrow strike behind the battle-lines, where your people would not be prepared to act and extract healthy men and women and leave before anyone could come to help.

...“Once we find that, we might be able to buy information as to where you are from, relative to where we are now, and then try and find a way to get you back if that is even feasible. After all, I am not going to put you down in a disaster zone of war even if I could.”

Neal listened, realising again that the translator was doing the best it could with difficult words and phrases.

“I don’t understand. You don’t have guns…projectile weapons…yet you have space ships and ear-translators?” Peter asked, trying not to think about how hopeless it all was, how unlikely he was ever going to see El again. He imagined for probably the millionth time her distress, her fear, her grief, her despair…if she was alive, if the Earth still existed.

His right hand went to his left ring finger, where no ring now lived. They had taken all the Earthlings’ jewellery, clothing, everything, as soon as they were out of orbit. It had been the first time Peter had been whipped, and when Neal tried to help, they’d just whipped Neal as well. Peter hated the memory of Neal’s face as he held back cries of pain.

After they were re-shackled, Neal had just said, through gritted teeth, “Moz always said, ‘No noise, no matter what.’ It’s ingrained.”

Peter had answered, “Spite the damn bastards!”

“That, too.”

Peter realised Steel was answering him. “We developed guns, bombs, and motorised this, that and the other,” Steel told them. “We still have them, and sometimes use them, but as a society we voluntarily stopped using many such things. We found that the bad ones were producing dirty air and water, that bad people used guns to kill, that machines put people out of work, made them worthless …now many are outlawed except under military rule, in an emergency. We are better off, and have developed other skills, other help. We still use machines for certain very hard or tiring jobs, but try and make them help us as a whole, not hurt as a whole.”

“I’m sorry,” June said, standing. “I know you have been patient, but I am still so tired. Call it my age.”

Steel stood immediately, took her hand and kissed it, again, a gesture that would have been commonplace many centuries back on Earth. “I will do no such thing, my Lady June. I believe if these two men were not stubbornly hoping to wheedle information from me they, too, would admit to exhaustion. Go, all of you, rest. I will get Brak to show you around tomorrow, if you would like.”

Back in their suite, they spoke only a little, had a cup of tea of some sort, used the bathroom and slept. This time they all removed their outer clothes, feeling that they would rest more comfortably, and slept. As he drifted off, Neal noted how quickly these rooms had started to feel like ‘home’. He’d had to make do with all sorts of accommodations, some very temporary and uncomfortable. Even here, on a foreign planet, ‘settling down’ seemed to be a pre-requisite and instinct for humans.

 

The next morning, Tamlin and Shiral appeared with breakfast as soon as they were all dressed. It seemed as though they had slept a long time. They didn’t have the local equivalent of a clock, and the markings probably wouldn’t have meant anything to them anyway!

Neal pondered the timing of breakfast…was the room bugged? Were they being watched, monitored in some way? It was an extremely disturbing thought that only occurred to him since he had seen the ear-bugs. “How you know we ready …the first meal?” Neal asked, having taken out his ear-bug when they had returned to their suite, knowing they spoke Standard, and he helped them place all the food down carefully.

“Lord Steel told us. He’s had his breakfast and gone out now, though. Brak says to just come down to the kitchen and one of us will find him and he’ll give you a …a…” she frowned.

“Show us the Keep?” Neal suggested, grinning into her eyes, helping her with plates and things, not knowing the word for ‘tour’! Tamlin smiled at him, nodded, and they left.

“Do you always have to flirt with everyone, especially but not exclusively the girls?” Peter demanded, crossly, as they ate.

“Peter, I keep telling you, you never know when you will have to rely on someone liking you! Especially here, for heaven’s sake!”

“He’s right, Peter,” June agreed. “And anyway, Neal is just being polite and well-mannered. It can never hurt in cases like this.”

 

Peter muttered, and Neal smiled a little. Had he been acting as Peter was, Peter would have told him he was sulking!

 

They joined a few other slaves in the kitchen area. Three children were playing a chasing game in and around the kitchen, squealing and shouting. They ignored the strangers. Ophera waved from a massive, black stove where she was stirring a large, steaming pot. Others smiled from their chores of preparing vegetables, cleaning things and sweeping the floor with a natural-bristle broom of some sort. Tamlin brought them some of the tea, which didn’t taste like Earth tea, or coffee, but which they were growing used to, and they sat waiting for Brak.

“So, Ophera, you and Brak,” Peter started, clearing his throat, “you’re married?”

“We are, Peter! Have been for more years than I like to think about. Both born here, fell in love in school. He is a good man…was Lord Steel’s – Caerrovon’s father, we still sort of think of Master Caerrovon instead of Lord Steel, even though the old Lord died nigh six years ago, but then, we brought the lad up, and I suppose it is natural for parents to think their children remain children, and he is kind enough to let us boss him a bit! …anyway, Brak was the Old Lord’s man, his…special servant?”

“Probably we’d call that a right-hand-man, or perhaps a valet or a butler…but I think Brak is a bit of a guard as well, isn’t he?” June suggested, smiling at Ophera.

“He is, Mistress June,” Ophera nodded, ducking her head a little. Neal and Peter smiled. None of the other slaves of any age gave each other titles of respect, though they seemed to acknowledge age or experience, not that they’d seen. But everyone had absorbed Steel’s honour of June.

‘ _Rightly so!’_ thought Neal.

But June was saying to Ophera, “I am not, and never have been, any sort of nobility or royalty, though Lord Steel has been very gentle with me. But between us, June is fine!”

Ophera smiled, and Peter asked her, “School! And you say you were born here…on this planet?”

“No, no, here, we are Steel children born and bred.” It seemed odd to the three that people not only were born in slavery, went to school in slavery, married in slavery, but seemed content with it, even proud! June was about to speak when Brak bustled in with Tamlin.

“How are you all? Sleeping a lot, huh? Tiring stuff, being attacked and kidnapped, or so all of the Fresh Meat tell me.”

“Fresh Meat? What a horrible expression!” June shuddered.

“Truly, Lady June,” Brak nodded. “A Slaver’s expression, of course. But new slaves… inexperienced slaves, untrained slaves…that is what they call them. But Lord Steel seldom buys resales. It is the new slaves that have the most trouble and are often treated worst. Most of us were either born here, bought from bad places or new slaves, is it not so?” he glanced round, and all those present nodded. “Come! What would you like to see first?”

He gave them a tour around the Keep, which was large. Some of it wasn’t being used much. There was a music room, set about with comfortable chairs as well as upright chairs and instruments that were at the same time familiar…strings, percussion, wind…and yet alien. There was a vast library with more books than even Neal could read in a lifetime. There were suites for visiting royal guests, more modest suites, rather like theirs. There was the Lord’s suite of rooms, which Brak didn’t open for them.

They heard the dogs barking somewhere and Brak said, “They really love Master Caerrovon. Do not really get on with anyone else. But great protection and alarm system for him.”

They said nothing, but Peter wondered if they were being warned.

Then there were many small rooms for single males slaves, with shower areas for a whole block. There were larger rooms with small bathrooms for young female slaves, and then there were the married quarters, and Brak proudly showed him the suite he and Ophera shared. It reminded Peter of a small farmhouse, with a kitchen with hand-sewn cloths and covers and oven-mitts.

“This is very nice indeed, Brak! You must tell Ophera how impressed we are with it!” June told him, and his chest swelled a little.

“We have lived here many years, it is home. Every now and then we re-decorate or get something new. The oven is new…you would think with the whole Keep, more or less, to feed, my wife would never want to look at an oven, but there you are! Women for you!”

“Oh, no,” Neal shook his head, “not just women! Peter was put on administrative leave and after about a week his neighbours…people who lived near them…complained to …” Neal ran down, his mischief turned to distress.

Peter cleared his throat. “They complained to my wife, El, that I was watching them. I was. I was compiling a file on each of them.” Brak laughed a little.

“Well,” June defended Peter, “you can never be too careful! It’s only good sense to know who lives near you. Byron – my husband - bought up all the real estate around us that he could, back in the day, and brought in people he could trust. Many of their families are still there, and we’ve worked together to vet anyone that was purchasing…it was in the original agreements that we could!”

Neal looked at her in surprise and respect. That was something even he hadn’t known, and Mozzie hadn’t even suspected…and the things Mozzie didn’t suspect could be written in large print on a small stamp.

He sighed. El, Mozzie, Jones, Diana, Hughes, Alex, Sara…he sent a fervent prayer that they were all right and that they would see all of them, in perfect health, soon. He also spent another minute wondering why he usually thought of Jones as Jones, whereas Diana was Diana, even though Jones was far friendlier and more casual. Perhaps because he didn’t think Clinton really suited Jones…his over-active brain started chewing uselessly on which names would suit Jones better than Clinton. Something tough, yet  intelligent and kind.

Brak took them to the outside courtyard they’d first seen and showed them the stables, opposite. Children and young adults were helping to clean out stalls and groom the big beasts, and ran here and there on errands. Most seemed healthy and in good spirits.

Peter, more knowledgeable than the others, was taken out of himself a little by the gorgeous and well-kept animals. “Steel will be glad, do tell him,” Brak said. “Most of the breeding is done at Sea Keep, but the training is done here. If you like to ride, we always need people to exercise the horses!”

“But we could just ride off…” Neal pointed out.

Brak frowned. “Why?”

“But – but – well, why do you and Ophera stay?”

“This is our home. Where could I get a better one, a better family?”

“A better master?” Peter asked, dryly.

“Well, that is true, legally he owns us. But he was our little boy, we did most of the raising of him. And I certainly would never risk trying to find a better master. You are so lucky he found you and managed to buy you. If we wanted to leave, he would give us our…freedom papers?”

“Papers of Manumission, we’d call them,” June said, quietly. “There was slavery on our planet, too.”

“Quite a lot, through the ages, of all sorts of people,” Neal nodded.

“And perhaps there were people who also loved their masters?” Brak suggested.

“Don’t know. Possibly,” June nodded. “We always heard about the horror stories, but I don’t know the history of every slave, certainly.”

Brak said, “You must know that your best bet of getting home is Master Caerrovon.”

“Why should he help us get home and lose all that money?”

“Because he is a hero, or a fool, depending on whom you are asking,” Brak laughed. “He loses quite a high proportion of his acquisitions, but many stay because they find they like it, or their world has been devastated by war, or famine or some such.”

“Which may be the case for us,” June said, her eyes filling, thinking of all the beauty and splendour – and of her family and friends.

“In which case,” Brak said, “and it is hard to consider, but at least you are here, and alive. But most wars do not destroy whole planets…I was thinking, when I said world, of their area, their society.

...“Still, no use shooting the drummer!” Obviously the translator had no idea how to handle some colloquialism or another! “It must be very close to lunch time!”

They had lunch and Steel didn’t put in an appearance.

“He is at the House,” Brak said, carelessly. “He will return by evening.”

“House?” Peter asked.

“Um…government place?” Brak tried.

“Oh.”

They spent some time talking to the other slaves. Where had they come from, what they thought of Steel. They heard some stories and looked at each other. Steel was certainly either an idiot or some kind of hero, but he was trying to do good things, getting people out of bad places and giving them a home where they worked.

“Sure, we have work to do, as I used to do for my family,” Zonta said. Zonta was a tall rather thin man that worked in the stables. “If I do bad work, here I get talked to. I want to do good work, do better work. My father much harder on me! But then, my father was harder on me than I am on my two sons!” They laughed.

Some stories were not funny. Slaves raped, or tortured. Slaves that committed suicide because of bad treatment.

“How does Steel make his money?” Neal asked. Peter was surprised it had taken him this long.

“It is a working farm. The horses sell for top prices, we usually have excess grain, fruit, vegetables as well as farm animals, too. People, nice people, sometimes come to him for slaves, because they know Steel slaves are good, friendly and trust-worthy. We win things, also.”

Neal said, “Farm? When do you find the time…?” at the same time Peter asked, “Win things?”

Brak answered Peter first. Peter was older, he thought. “We have some skills. Master Caerrovon and Joster recently won in the …um…fighting games? It had a large money award. Our Keep has won it often.”

“The Lord entered and won a fighting competition?” Neal demanded. He’d thought the youth inexperienced and perhaps coddled. He seemed very slender and without the focus of a fighter.

“He is exceptional. Has to be,” Brak answered, obscurely. “And you have only seen a small number of Steel Keepers…the farm has its own rooms, in the middle of the lands. So do the other industries.

"Then there is sand, from areas of Sea Keep…we trade it, it is useful for many things, including glass. Meat, of course. We make small, utility metal things…kitchen knives, forks, spoons, things of that nature, and the bone handles you see on them? We also make the special serviceware for each of the closer Keeps, with their logo on it. And one of our main industries is the cloth…?”

 

“Textiles?” Neal suggested. “For making clothing, that sort of cloth?”

 

Brak nodded. “Yes. Clothing, for the beds, curtaining, towels, backs for tapestries for the ladies to make – oh! Sails for ship?”

 

“Oh!” Peter said, rather faintly. “And Steel runs all of this?”

 

“And Sea Keep, with Jarad’s help,” Brak said. The slaves around the table nodded, obviously pleased. June just shook her head. After lunch the three found themselves worn out, as much by the stress of all things new as anything, though the two men, especially, were still healing from their wounds and all of them were regaining their basic health. Ophera, having seen this often before, suggested a nap, and June mourned, “I think the Lord will want a refund, we’re being totally useless!”

“He would want you well so that when you do start to take part you do not become ill or weak or depressed,” Ophera told them. They woke while it was still light, which was an improvement, and they congratulated themselves! They went out to find someone and perhaps help with supper preparation, and walked into Steel, coming to find them.

“How did you enjoy looking around?” Steel asked.

“It’s so big, my Lord,” June said, “bigger than I had thought.”

“I have something for you, which you probably do not want, but which will make things easier, perhaps!” Steel told them, and they went back into their rooms. Out of his right pocket he drew three silver-coloured collars, each different, each made up of several crafted chains coiling and looping from each other. “These claim you as belonging here,” he said.

“Peter get’s an anklet,” chanted Neal.

“How old are you, five?” Peter countered, angrily. “You mean they prove we belong to **_you?”_** he demanded of Steel.

“I paid good money to get you out of a terrible slave prison,” Steel said, softly, reprovingly.

“You never paid any money for me, Peter,” Neal pointed out, “ when you got me out of prison.”

“Three years of my life! And a whole lot more in aggravation!”

“The FBI gave you a salary for those years,” Neal countered, sounding like the old – or very young — Neal for the first time since the war had started, “and because of me you got to travel!”

“Shut up!” Peter snapped.

“You aren’t the boss of me…any more!” Neal told him. “And our Lord Steel likes his slaves to be polite and respectful! He told us so! Isn’t that so, my Lord?”

“It is, Neal. All of them.”

“Oooh, subtle!” Neal nodded approvingly at him.

“Permission to smack Neal Caffrey for his own good, my Lord!” growled Peter.

“Actually,” Steel said, calmly, “I had not finished with the whole ownership-slave-collar-thing.”

The three quieted, though Neal had his butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth expression which was, in a way, Peter thought, far more irritating than words. “This is like a safe-passage when you are outside the Keep. Well, theoretically, all slaves are supposed to wear them all the time. Most of mine choose not to within the Keep unless we have visitors.”

“Put it on, my Lord,” June said. “Better than a split ear to mark ownership.”

Steel gently placed the ornate thing round her neck and fastened it. “They say the way you can tell royalty is that whatever they are wearing, they make it look like throneroom finery,” he smiled at her. “It is true, my Lady.”

Neal was sure that his original words rang with more poetry, but the translating device was doing its best. “It’s comfortable,” she said, surprised. “And more like jewellery than it needs to be. Thank you, my Lord.”

Steel went next to Neal, who, despite his mocking words, dropped his head as he allowed his new owner to take legal possession. It was usually some surrogate for Peter, attaching his anklet. Peter watched and was surprised to see the sadness and empathy in Steel’s eyes as he took Neal from him.

When Steel approached him, Peter made a little face and shrugged, and Steel’s eyes smiled a little. “It is like a travel-paper, Peter,” he said. “You say you are not slaves at home, yet I am sure you have travel-papers. Think of this like that.”

“A passport!” Neal translated. “You belong to a country, back home, you have the passport. But they don’t, theoretically, own you.”

“Mozzie would say differently,” Peter said.

“He would.”

Steel reached around and carefully locked the collar on Peter.

“It’s not going to stop us running,” Peter pointed out, “when we’re ready.”

“I hope you will be flying, flying home. But it is taking time. I have no ideas yet where you are from.”

“Where’s my GPS tracking device when I need it,” mourned Neal, humorously.

“I still do not have the story of how you came to be friends,” Steel pointed out. “You will tell me, tonight!”

 

After tea, Brak and Ophera put on their own collars and took them out of the main door of the Keep and into the public street for the first time since the day they had been purchased. It was an imposing and beautiful main door, with Steel’s crest of two crossed swords, a crown, two horses and some foliage painted on a low-relief carving. The streets were wide and there were people, mostly slaves, since they all wore collars of different types, walking here and there on errands. Some looked sad, tired or confused, but less than the proportion of unhappy faces in any New York traffic. A youth ran past holding a parcel, grinning with delight as he extended his stride. He was wearing a collar, this one was red leather with studs. Carriages drove by. The three looked around, and they all stretched their legs walking along the road some way up and back and then a similar distance in the other direction.

“All these are people,” Peter said, suddenly.

“And horses,” Brak answered, puzzled, “and a dog or two…”

“No, I mean they all look like us. Two arms, one head, there are not blobs or four-legged people or – or – ”

“Nothing like Star Wars café sentient beings,” Neal added. “Things that are sentient but don’t look anything like us.”

“Well, it seems that for people to be sentient and develop technology, they need hands of some sort, so they walk upright,” Brak said. “So our pattern, if you like, seems to work well. There are many different beings: tentacled sentients in a water-world called Vorss, others with six legs that use the front two and walk on the back four…apparently sentient flower-like things that suck energy from anything that moves…they were nearly wiped out before it was realised they were conscious. And they are kept on one planet far away, and they go dormant for periods of time without ‘food’. They get fed by people who go there, but leave before death…charitable people…”

“Doctors without brains!” Peter shuddered.

“And some planets send their truly evil murderers there,” Brak finished. “Quite a high number of the sentient beings that do not look as we do also need different environments, different atmospheres or live under water, or in even more extreme conditions that would be instantly toxic to us. Then there are whole species of sentient beings who are not, or only partially, physical. Sort of…” he said something that the translator hesitated with and tried, “‘ghosts’.

...“And of course there are many humans and sentient animals of various levels of intelligence and logical thought who just have never developed much technology.

...“But as you say, most people look as we do, but some have much more hair, no hair at all or six fingers, or scales. Subtle differences. You’ll see some here. Tamlin amd Shiral have six fingers and six toes!”

“It’s true,” Neal nodded. “I thought Tamlin was just…um…an oddity? Sport? Mutation?” He left the translator to work it out. “So it wasn’t just Star Trek making it up for the convenience of getting actors…most people are like us. Sorry,” he said to Brak, “Star Trek was a local entertainment story of space.”

“No, all Tamlin’s people are born that way. Much more…um…gifts?...too.” Brak made a motion with his hand near his ear, which puzzled them. Another, big carriage rumbled past. “You can go to the market, look around, when you wish. Just clear it with Master Caerrovon, or me, and take a guard with you, especially at first. Till you know the customs and do not transgress any laws. The main thing is that you wear your collar, and lock it…some people may grab it, see if it is real. They are not supposed to be removable by the slaves, of course, but ours are unless we lock them.”

Neal blinked. “Another improvement you must bring up with the Bureau if we ever get back!”

“Grr,” said Peter. with a half-smile. When they re-entered the Keep, the door was closed with a satisfying thud behind them…both Peter and Neal felt a little surprised that it made them feel safe, not trapped, but neither mentioned it.

June said, “I’m still weary and still sorrowful and still suffering from stress, but I’d like to do something? It sounds odd to be all those things and still feel bored!”

Brak smiled. “Would you mind helping in the kitchens? There is always lots of work, and when you feel you’ve had enough, just say so.”

 

So, after a little time, the three were seated round what looked like a half-wine barrel, peeling what were the local equivalent of potatoes. Lots and lots and lots of potatoes. June started humming a little song and Neal joined in. It was peaceful and pleasant; they could hear the rest of the kitchen staff talking and sometimes laughing through in the kitchen proper. Apparently the children were always fed earlier than the adults, and their meal was being dished up. A child who they would have guessed was about ten years old, on Earth, with huge dark eyes and soft, wavy hair, brought a roll through and stood eating it, watching the Earthlings.

“Hello, I’m June, this is Peter and Neal. What’s your name?” The youngster gazed solemnly at June.

“Have you had dinner yet?” Neal asked. “Is it good tonight?”

“It is always good!” the boy answered, his cheek bulging with bread.

“You’re right,” Neal agreed. “Who are your mother and father?”

“My Da died a long time ago. He was a brave soldier. My mother is Inya, she works on the farm with the cattle.”

“Have you just come to visit?” June asked, but he just watched Neal and then turned and ran off.

“Another conquest, Neal. He likes you.”

“Almost all children like Neal,” Peter noted. “Like calls to like.”

“Better than being scared of your stuffy self!” Neal grinned.

“Now, now!” June tsked at them, and they went back to working hard.

“I wish the evil slavers had let me bring a phone or camera,” Peter commented, after a little while of silence. “If we ever get back no-one is going to believe that the great artist and forger Neal Caffrey ever peeled a pile of homely potato-things!”

June smiled and Neal immediately retorted, “That’s exactly why it works!”

“What!”

“Peeling potatoes!” Neal was smirking now. “You see – allegedly – there was this Celtic torc, one of the earliest really lovely ones, gold, heavy, do you know how fantastic their metalwork was? How early? Their illustrated manuscripts…well, this wasn’t about the Book of Kells or anything, and the torc wasn’t as old or as heavy as the Snettisham beauty, but the workmanship was superb and it was in its original form and not twisted, as they did on occasion when the wearer died …anyway, this torc was touring the country, as it were, visiting museums and displays, in the hands of its owners (who were nouveau-riche American, totally unappreciative, other than for the measure of fame it brought them), and they were staying at this enchanting old inn

..."…you know, I love New York, but I wish parts of it were much, much older…there’s something about really old places, where the wood was growing before Christ, where every nick in the beam was someone’s tool-mark – "

“Where do the potatoes come in?” Peter demanded.

Neal gave him a Look, insulted at being torn from his poetic musings. “Well, people seldom look hard at drudges. They just don’t see them. Not that there’s anything wrong with service, working behind the scenes, but it’s easy to become the scenery, so to speak. And almost invisible. People never think that someone with great skills would be peeling root vegetables. So for the price of about ten pockets of potatoes…perhaps a few less…someone could have liberated from vulgar bondage a very nice, totally authentic torc, and its document of authenticity. Allegedly. ”

“You know, I think you just make up stories to boost your reputation. I bet if I said…um…shoelaces, you’d claim that –“

“Allegedly!” June stuck in, as always amused at their verbal sparring.

...“ – you’d stolen the first ever pair of shoelaces in existence from the Kremlin, or some other tall tale!” Peter finished.

“Well, I never stole any shoelaces, Peter, or anything else, remember?” Neal chided, mildly. “But there was this time when I used a shoelace, just a shoelace, to escape a prison in Albania…allegedly.”

“I have no record of you ever being in a prison in Albania! You say you never lie to me! How many words could I throw at you that you’d tell me a fantasy about?” Peter actually wondered that, truly.

“I’ve never lied to you, Peter,” Neal said, not-melting butter, again. “And just because the prison and police records are not in any name you might recognise…”

“But every time he tags a story with ‘allegedly’,” June pointed out, “he is saying it is a fantasy, isn’t he?”

“Perhaps,” whispered Neal, happily. “Perhaps it’s an imagined-maybe-fantasy and perhaps it’s just to make sure no-one recording the conversation can use it to put me behind bars.

....“I really liked the Irish…but the myth that they really like their potatoes is no myth. Just as the saying about their fighting…what is it…’even if an Irishman…?”

“ ‘Even if an Irishman can’t fight, he thinks he can’ I think it went,” Peter said. “I think Barnum or Bailey or one of the Ringling’s said it of their roustabouts.”

“Well, that’s true, too, and they could possibly even drink Moz under the table, though I don’t know if they ever tried. And their Little People…well, a lot of odd things happen there. And they sing, and dance…’ Only men dance, only men weep, only men sing’,” he quoted, rather sadly.

It was strange how comfortable this felt. As though they could really relax. Peter started, inwardly, hating himself. Was he beginning to accept that this was home, that El was gone forever?

“Have faith, Peter,” June said, putting a hand on his arm. “I believe everything with be all right. Mostly. And you and El are supposed to be together.”

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 2


	3. And then there were...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal, Peter and June are beginning to regain their strength and start believing that they are safe and will be reasonably well cared for. But they are about to find out how dangerous and difficult it can be outside of the Keep.
> 
> Reference and thanks to Marion Zimmer Bradley for the Darkover series of books and her Chieri and Star Trek. 
> 
> Thanks to The Third Marauder for David Tanner in Detoxification and elrhiarhodan for the legal reference she used in her story "How Long Did You Think You Could Keep This Up (Before I Found Out)?"

 

Steel joined dinner half-way-through, apologising to Ophera for not stopping to clean up and coming in smelling of horses and rather muddy around the boots.

 

The three went, as he instructed, to the front Greatroom, as Neal dubbed it, and sat by the fire waiting for him to join them.In a surprisingly short time he did, wearing soft shoes and soft clothing in various lavender and grey shades, hair damp, looking a little tired but keen to hear their story.

They looked at each other and Peter said, “Neal, your forté…you tell stories so very well!”

Neal grinned at him, and said, “Peeter.” But he told, as briefly as possible, Peter’s chase of a young, brilliant and gorgeously handsome young man, allegedly responsible for every non-violent forgery, con, art theft and bank heist since he – Neal – would have been about five years old. “He caught me, but I was off my game. And it was for something totally minor…though of course, I had nothing to do with any crimes, at all. But the cruel system put me away in prison, I escaped to find my girl, and ended up helping the FBI because without me…well....” Peter snorted. “You told me to tell it, Peter, remember? And that’s how I remember it.”

“And I gave him a suite in my home when he got out on this special work- release-contract-parole-thing he had with Peter,” June smiled, “because my husband also never had anything at all to do with any crimes!”

“And she gave me clothes and love and advice and support,” Neal beamed across at her.

“And when I, out of the kindness of my heart, despite deep suspicions that a conman born and bred – and trained – could ever live a lawful life, got Caffrey out of prison and into an anklet that could be …watched…so he couldn’t run away, I was rewarded – _**huh!** _ – by being made responsible for him, his handler,” Peter said. “Those suspicions were many times justified, I might add,”

“And we became partners and friends,” Neal finished.

“Sort of, sometimes, sometimes adversaries,” Peter added.

“But always with mutual respect and, I believe, affection…perhaps even love,” June insisted.

While they were looking at each other, remembering, Steel commented, “You are very lucky to have forged such strong bonds…especially from such odd beginnings!”

Then he stood up, looking as though he had heard a sound they hadn’t.

...He said, “Move not and _**hush!”**_ in such a commanding whisper that they all froze. “Destruction and Damnation, alert!”

The dogs sat up, ears pricked. Neal grinned, despite Steel’s urgency… _Des and Dam…!_

Steel went to the door silently and swiftly and unlocked it, and the three of them stood up and watched him, startled. As he gave a pull, two people literally fell through the doorway, pushing Steel back behind the door.

Peter and Neal cried, “Diana! Jones!” in unison.

The two were holding each other up, and Jones said, in a harsh whisper, “Shh! Thank God we’ve found you alone! We need help!”

Diana whispered, _**“Boss!”** _

Then the door closed, Jones’ head whipped round and his expression fell into despair at seeing Steel’s Keeper’s knot. Then both he and Diana fell to their knees…well, Diana just fell.

“Finally, a slave who acknowledges authority – you are **_hurt!”_ ** Steel went from jocular to alarmed in a split second. June stood aside to let Peter and Neal pick up Diana. “Put her on the couch!” ordered Steel. “Des and Dam, relax.”

“Please, please don’t turn us in, Sir…Lord…oh, please!” Jones literally begged, and Peter sucked in breath through his teeth. No-one on his team should sound so desperate.

“I am not turning anyone in…Jones, is it? Let us see where she is hurt.”

“Sword-thrust through her side. Not immediately life-threatening in itself I don’t believe, but she’s lost so much blood! There’s also her wrists and her head. And her back, of course.”

Steel stood, said to Peter, “Put pressure!” and ran towards the kitchens shouting, “Tamlin! Tamlin! Get Shiral and call Lira! It is urgent!” He disappeared. He came through within moments with Lucilla and a first-aid kit of sorts. Some things were familiar: bandages, creams, needle and thread, scalpel equivalents, others were totally alien.

Ophera came in with cooled boiled water and they washed off the excess blood…there was a lot of it on her clothes and more in her hair. Her wrists and hands were bloody and the skin was torn off and peeled back in many places. They looked disgusting. She hissed with pain as the water, cool as it was, stung in her wounds.

“Shoo!” Ophera said to all the men. “We are going to manage here. Give Lucilla and me some space, and let the poor girl breathe!” They set up some sheets around the bed on frames.

They went a few steps away and hovered. Jones looked terrible: exhausted, distressed and hurt. He wasn’t walking upright.

“Sit down, and tell me what happened,” Steel demanded. Jones looked at Peter for permission, or direction, and Peter shrugged. “We have to trust him, Jones. He’s been good to us.”

“Diana just killed our owner, Serandon, and if she hadn’t, I probably would have.”

Everyone drew a horrified breath at that. The seriousness showed in Steel’s eyes.

“We were never properly fed or clothed, he had us beaten for nothing, several times, and then he raped her!” Jones defended Diana. Both Peter and Neal went stiff with fury, and made an instinctive move towards the door as though they were going to make sure he was _**very**_ dead. “He drew a sword and tried to defend himself, but he was no match for an angry Diana when she slipped her cuffs!”

The men nodded. They knew Diana. Beaten, starved, mistreated and badly wounded, against an armed, healthy opponent, they’d have bet on her.

“She freed me, and we fled…limping, I’m afraid. The soldiers guarding us just ran away when they saw their master dead…I think they thought Diana was some sort of avenging goddess…she was covered in blood, mad as hell, just radiating danger! She was spectacular!”

“While there was ample provocation, from what you say, the law is clear and Diana’s life is forfeit…and yours for helping her,” Steel started, and Jones struggled to get up, intending to save Diana all over again. Steel put a hand on his arm. “Hush. They will not come looking at this time of night. We have ways of hiding people. Did you leave a trail of blood, Jones?”

“We tried not to. But she was bleeding so much, it was dark, we might have,” Jones said, exhaustedly, sinking down again. “Probably did. What can we do?”

“Oh, I think a team of street-cleaners will be at work tonight, They often do, you know, so they do not bother the traffic during the day. I shall organise it!

...“Brak!” he yelled, and hurried out.

He met Tamlin at the door, who said, “Lira is on her way. She will not be long, my Lord.”

“That is very good! I think the woman is going into shock. She has multiple and very serious injuries. Thank you, Tamlin!” He patted her shoulder, and continued on his way.

Peter put a hand on Jones’ broad shoulder and Jones put a hand on Peter’s fingers, drawing support. Peter could feel how thin Jones had become through the raged cloth. June came up on his other side, also gently touching him.

“You did well to bring her away,” Peter told Jones. “But how on earth did you find us?”

“Not even on earth,” Jones muttered. “We are still FBI, Sir! Actually, we saw you when we were being driven by on an old wagon. We would have called out, but that would have meant being beaten. We took a chance that this was your house, in the crisis, because you were standing closest to it. We had no idea where to go, and Diana needed help urgently. With the blood loss and the terrible pain she must be in…”

“Thank God you saw us!” Peter exclaimed.

“And it seems that Steel is prepared to help, which I would not have banked on,” Neal said. “That’s another miracle.”

“And Jones…Jones…I’m sorry to ask, you’re in no fit state, but do you know anything of Elizabeth?” Peter couldn’t stop himself.

Jones looked up, his eyes horrified. “No, I’m sorry. Peter. There were other people from earth with us, but we would have noticed her, or she us, even with all the crowding and confusion, had she been in our compartment. There were others from Earth, but we didn’t see her. But – but was she at the office that day?”

Peter sighed. “ No. I doubt the slavers took all of New York. They probably targeted factories and big businesses to optimise the merchandise to healthy adults. It wouldn’t be sensible to go house-to-house.”

Jones stayed silent, respecting Peter’s grief. Then he said, “She’s probably fine, at home, just thinking you’re at war…”

“Steel is trying to find out how to get us home, or so he says, but it’s almost impossible, I think.”

“Your owner…?”

“Lord Steel. This is Steel Keep. I don’t know what he’ll do about you and Diana, but his slaves speak very highly of him and he’s certainly …unexpected.”

“He looks so very young,” Jones remarked. “Oh, God, I’m tired.”

“Well, thank God, for I prayed we’d see you soon…but I wish you were both in perfect health,” Neal told him.

Ophera left to get other supplies, and the men could see that they had put Diana into some sort of linen clothing. She was moving in great discomfort, trying to find some way of lying without hurting herself.

Ophera returned and soon was binding Diana’s damaged wrists loosely with what looked, to the Earthlings, like strips of plant material… _aloe vera?_ thought Neal. They watched with some surprise as Ophera hooked up something similar to an I.V. for Diana, but the liquid in it was a lovely deep green!

“Trekkies would just love that!” Neal murmured.

“It’s a blood substitute,” Steel said, suddenly at his side again. “It has so far not seemed to be…wrong, dangerous?…for anyone.”

“So no incompatibility problems, even with different species?” Peter said, trying to pull himself together. When he had seen Jones, and Diana, it had brought his loss closer, somehow.

“Lira is on her way, she is amazing,” Steel told him. “I have seen her deal with sword and knife wounds before. It seems as though you are a very physical species, and this will be interesting to you.”

“Boss!” Diana called, weakly, and Ophera waved him over. They all gathered closer and Diana, who actually already looked a little better, said, “I’m so glad to see all of you, and I’m sorry to bring such trouble to you and your…owner. Sir, I do apologise. Thank you for your help.”

Then Tamlin and Shiral came in with a striking woman: very tall, slender to the point of thinness, with strange hair that was silver with bluish tints and seemed to hover of its own volition. She put out her long-fingered hand and just touched finger-tips with Steel, who smiled.

“A Chieri!” Neal exclaimed, thrilled.

“What?” demanded Peter.

“Just she – or he – should be here, it’s nothing, it’s a story about a planet called Darkover…”

“Oh, be quiet!” Peter snapped.

Lira went swiftly to Diana’s side, her robes floating a little, like her hair. She touched Diana with her finger-tips and said, softly, “Sleep, sister. You will be safe here, and better very soon.”

“Come, leave her to work,” Steel said, as Diana seemed to immediately become unconscious.

“She’s all right, isn’t she?” Jones demanded. “What did this Lira do…?”

“Put her into a deep, healing sleep away from stress and pain. Jones, please, you have done all you can for the moment. Let us carry the burden for a while. In fact, when did you eat?”

“Properly?” Jones asked, ruefully. “Back on Earth, Lord Steel.”

“I will get some of the stew, it is still warm!” Ophera told them. As soon as Jones had eaten two bowls of the stew, the other men, moved one of the other large couches closer to where Lira was working on Diana, apparently waving her hands over her, and Jones went to lie down. Brak brought over a thick rug, and June tucked it round Jones while Peter pulled his dirty, ill-fitting boots off his feet, hissing at the broken blisters there.

“Later, you can bathe, Jones. For now, sleep,” Steel instructed.

“Thank you, Sir, thank you all!” Jones murmured, already half asleep.

“He must be exhausted to give way like that,” Peter said, softly. “In a strange place and still worried about Diana…”

“Oh, it is the herbs Ophera puts in the stew,” Steel said. The Earthlings turned and stared at him and he glanced up. “Did you not guess? How do you think I have such a happy, calm, docile Keep of slaves?”

There was a horrified silence for about ten seconds…Earth time…and then Neal burst out laughing. Steel smiled, and they were soon all laughing more than the little joke might have seemed worth at another time and place, hushing each other, though Lira and her two patients seemed oblivious.

“God, it feels good to laugh!” Neal said.

“Lord Steel, you are a Bad Man!” June chuckled.

Even Peter laughed. He watched Neal throw his head back and wondered…had he ever heard Neal really laugh? Oh, he was Neal-of-a-thousand-smiles, at least 39 different flavours (one for each active alias?) from the slight, shy smile through the hurt-and-disbelieving _**Who-me?**_ half-smile to the wicked grin when he’d caught Peter out… but laugh?

“Now, Peter,” Steel said, “my men are pretending to be a work crew, and will clean the streets all around Serandon Keep as far as time allows, Jones and Diana are being healed and we have a safe place to hide them, and we can do nothing for a little while. So tell me about Elizabeth.”

Peter hesitated. He felt as though he was betraying her, somehow, to speak about her in this alien place, in captivity. Neal sat by him and put his hand on Peter’s knee, leaning forward to look into his face and said, “Let Lord Steel know how beautiful she is, how smart, how special. He will be more motivated to get you home.”

So Peter spoke about how he had first seen Elizabeth, how it had been love at first sight, or something like it, how he had used FBI surveillance to find out if she was involved with anyone, how she had used a placard to get through to him that she was available for a date! He went on, telling all her strengths, how she had accepted Neal before she had met him, had let him in and trusted him before Peter himself had…

“…if he yet does..” murmured Neal.

…and how clever she was, organising weddings and other events so that they became perfect memories for her clients... They became aware that Lira was standing, her eyes closed, singing. The melody had no discernable words, but rose and fell, soft, haunting, totally alien and indescribably lovely.

Neal stood as though compelled to move towards her. They all felt their skins prickle, their eyes moisten. Steel moved in front of Neal when he was four feet from Lira, put his hands on Neal’s shoulders and said, “Touch her not physically, you will ground her.”

Neal nodded, dashed away tears.

Her hair and clothing seemed to dance gently to the gorgeous sound. Time ceased.

Peter looked at the tableau of Steel, his hands gently on Neal’s shoulders, tall and protective, and wondered if he’d given up the right to be there, in that position. Had he mistrusted Neal once too often? But the lovely sound soothed him, too, and he found himself drifting, thinking of El, thinking of home. It seemed that nothing would be impossible.

At last, Lira herself came up to Steel and broke the spell. Neal reached out, not able to stop himself, and she smiled and put out her hands, wide-spread, and ever the communicator, he touched her finger-tips with his, and smiled back. She went past each of them, and they stood, seeming to be wakening from dreams…Neal noticed how she towered over Peter and even Steel, yet was totally unthreatening. Serene and somehow mischievous at the same time.

“Come, let us leave your friends to sleep,” Steel said, as Lira exited the room. “In the morning we will talk and make plans.”

“One of us should stay,” Peter said, with a hint of supplication, hating that he had to use that tone. “In case they wake and are afraid.”

“Worry not, Peter. Tamlin and Shiral will take turns, they have been sleeping this evening…but your friends will not stir. Lira has lulled them to a deep sleep and they will wake up tomorrow much improved. We will all enjoy a very good night’s sleep.”

“Thank you, Lord Steel, for all you are doing for us,” Neal said, and they stumbled off, hardly washing before falling into bed.

 

In the morning, Neal stretched and felt a light, bubbly feeling of exhilaration. He showered and Peter thumped on the door before he was finished. He came out wearing just a towel round his middle to return to his room and, as he left the room, Peter glanced over his shoulder at him, about to speak and said instead, sharply, “ ** _Neal!”_**

“Yes, what?”

“Your back!” Peter pulled his top over his head and said, “Look at mine!”

Neal came back and put his hands on Peter’s shoulder-blades, smoothing the skin across them, hardly able to believe it. “There’s not a mark! Mine, too?” He reached up behind his back, feeling, and Peter turned him round and said,

“Not a mark, not a scar, nothing. Oh! My appendicitis scar is also gone! And the mark from the bullet…”

“The tiny mark from a fencing injury, the tiny burn-scars on my wrists from hot metal – ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies – my God, Peter, she healed everything! And we weren’t even her patients!”

June was smiling, too, as they made their way along the corridor and into the Greatroom to find Jones and Diana still fast asleep. Tamlin smiled at them, sitting doing some sewing nearby. Diana’s colour was good, she was on her side with her hand under her cheek, and looked as relaxed as a child. Jones, too, seemed better.

They left them and ate breakfast, and Steel came a few minutes late and said, “The ‘street cleaning crew’ has done what needed to be done in the dark of night and no-one any the wiser. There will probably be a search of some sort, but it will be no trouble to hide them for a time. It is the longer term prospect that may be of some concern.”

“Was he very important, this bastard that Diana exterminated?” Peter asked. “I know how politics works.”

“Politically he was powerful, for financial reasons alone, but he had made himself many enemies and I believe that quite a few of his slaves would take the chance to flee. So the roast will be shredded.”

Neal’s eyebrows went up and Peter suggested, “The water’s are muddied?”

Tamlin came in as they drank their tea, and said, “Jones is awake, and Diana is stirring, Lord Steel.”

Steel, Neal and Peter got up hurriedly and went through. Jones was sitting on the side of the bed, feeling bits of himself in surprise.

“Hello – oh, Good morning, Sir, Lord Steel!” he stood and Peter expected Steel to wave him down, but Jones shook his head and said, “I feel great! Better than I have for …well, since before the war started! What did you do to me, my Lord?”

Peter caught the ‘my Lord’, and felt a twinge of jealousy. How easily their allegiance shifted! He scolded himself. How childish! It must be the stress.

Before anyone could respond to Jones, Diana suddenly sat up, looked confused and then puzzled. She saw Peter. “Boss, what’s happened? Where am I? I thought I was injured.”

She felt her side, where there was a small dressing. She stood up as well, to Peter’s great astonishment.

“Diana, be careful!”

“Seriously, Boss, I – it’s as if it never happened!”

“Look at her wrists and hands!” Jones gasped. The skin was a little paler there, but there was no sign of the terrible wounds Diana had inflicted on herself to get out of the shackles. “That’s impossible! You lost a lot of blood…litres and litres!” Jones went on. “B-but my feet…” He showed them and they were free of blisters or abrasions.

Steel laughed a little. “I told you Lira was special.”

“But all she did was sing!” Peter argued, forgetting his place, again.

Neal said softly, by his side, “Did it feel ‘just’ like singing, to you, Peter? The terrible scars on our backs? How do you feel, this morning?”

“It’s a miracle,” June said, joining them. “I feel seventeen!”

“June, Hon, you are seventeen! You always have been, you always will be!” Neal laughed at her.

“I told you we had found many better ways of doing things…the healers are just one example,” Steel nodded. “Now, Jones and Diana, come and eat and then you shall bathe. I will tell Lucilla to attend to you, as your clothing is worse than the Slavers provide.”

Ophera fed the two while their friends watched, gloating over their good health, then she took them away to another suite, and Steel said, “We do need to talk, but they need care right now. I have cancelled my plans. I need to be here as a precaution. So, is there anything you would like to do this morning?”

Neal hesitated. “I’d love to see your art, my Lord Steel. Brak gave us the ha’penny tour, but I didn’t think he’d know much about the paintings and sculpture.”

Peter made a face. “The only good thing about this plan is that Neal has no-where to go with any stolen art-work! And no materials to forge any, either! But my Lord, I’d prefer to …I may just be staying here longer than I originally thought, and I feel useless! Can I meet your arms-master?”

“You know the stables?” Steel asked. “Well, just to the left of them is the armoury and practise hall. Ask anyone around there for Leran and tell him I sent you and explain.”

“Will do, my Lord,” Peter nodded, feeling better at having a concrete plan, even if a temporary one…hopefully! He strode briskly away, pondering the fact that it hadn’t felt weird to call this barely-bearded youth ‘my Lord’ , it hadn’t felt sick or wrong, as he had always thought it would. It wasn’t any more unreasonable than calling Hughes “Boss”.

 

“I will show you around the paintings and things of interest, Neal. June?” Steel asked.

“My Lord, I will go and help Ophera, if that’s all right with your lordship. I believe she has a cottage garden, and I’d like to be outside this lovely morning.”

Neal and Steel wandered from gallery to passageway to halls, talking of the paintings…there were, as in long-established Earth houses and castles, portraits of past Steel Keepers, their horses and dogs and, to Neal, a surprising number of slave-portraits, too. There were also landscapes and seascapes. Neal was entranced by some of the techniques, and demanded rather vehemently that Steel let him speak to an expert.

The paintings also showed how alien the normal-seeming place was: in the evening and night sky there were two moons in some paintings, the sunsets had a more greenish look. The mountains and rivers were subtly different, rocks breaking along strange fault-lines, plants and trees with odd coloured leaves. And each animal, though the Earthlings accepted it mentally as the nearest Earth-equivalent, was different…the ‘dog-wolves’ were bigger than any dog or modern wolf, their ears rounder, their tails longer and bushier, their feet broader. The horses were very like their Earth counterparts to glance at, but their eyes were green or blue or violet, they didn’t have hooves but rather sort of pads, and their coats more plush, like thick velvet. And again, their ears were more rounded.

Steel’s eyes sparkled with delight at Neal’s knowledge and thirst for more. They were talking about a suit of armour when Diana and Jones joined them, washed and now dressed in much nicer clothing and the same soft house-shoes that the others wore indoors.

They went about discussing some of the sculptures, which looked to Neal to be not made of marble, but of jade and some black stone he couldn’t identify. Diana was well-versed in art of many forms, and she enjoyed it, smiling broadly and discussing things back and forth with Neal.

She had felt so doomed, and been scared that she would either bleed to death or be cut down in the street, or in Steel Keep when she realised they’d walked smack into the Keeper. To die so far from home and all she held dear, other than Jones. Now relief and good health made her giddy and wreathed in smiles, and Neal smiled back at her.

Steel first took them to his suite of rooms. “If anyone should in some way suddenly intrude into the Keep, Diana, you and Jones must come here immediately. The doors lock from the inside, and I would ask you to hide as well as possible…there is a secret area under the main bed. But no-one would intrude into a Lord’s suite without risking a fight to the death with the Lord of the Keep or his Champion, if the Lord is elderly.”

“And you just won the fighting competition!” Neal chuckled. “How wonderful! No-one will dare!”

“It is not a long-term solution, but will work temporarily. There is no handle on the outside of the door, it unlocks in this manner,” he said, and placed his hand, palm flat, against the wood. There was a ‘click’, and the door unlocked and opened a little. Steel held the door, and said to Diana, “Put your hand next to mine. And now you, Jones…now it will respond to you both as well.” He pulled it closed and they each tried it, and the door obediently unlocked for each. Steel nodded once, while Neal wondered what technology or whatever it was…? _How could he break into that?_ was his usual subtext.

Steel broke his thoughts. “Come, let us show them more and make them feel at home.” They were showing Diana and Jones where their suite of rooms were…Jones and Diana had been settled next door, and Steel agreed that it would be appropriate if June swapped with Jones, and soon June joined them.

“What did you wish, my Lord? Tamlin said you had called for me?” she asked, and when Steel explained. “Oh, I would love to share with Diana. We can keep the bathroom …well, not be in the boys’ way.”

Neal grinned at her and she smiled and said, “You’ve both been wonderful, and I was so glad not to be alone, but I feel quite safe with Diana!”

“More than I do, considering what she did to Serandon!” Steel joked, and Diana looked shocked, scared and surprised, all in such short order that Steel grinned and said, “I am teasing you, Diana. I promise I am not likely to try and take advantage of your fair self.”

Diana was overcome with bashfulness, to Neal’s delight.

Steel was speaking to Jones about his various interests and abilities and Neal took the opportunity to move closer to Diana and ask, “Are you all right? **_Truly?_** ”

They moved a few steps away from the others and she looked at him, recognizing that it was very possible that he was the only one of her friends present who might be expected to understand how she had been feeling the previous evening. “You know, when I said I felt as though nothing had happened, that’s exactly what it _**feels**_ like. I remember all that happened. I remember that huge, ugly brute shackling me hand and foot, forcing me… but my body is totally healed, _**everywhere.**_ It’s as though all the little cuts and abrasions and burns from all the years since I was a baby have been healed! And likewise, my emotions. The fear, fury, disgust, shame, guilt – they’re all gone. I remember it all… digitally? – I remember, but it’s like something I read in a book long ago…”

“I am so glad, Diana,” he said. “I could once have wished for such oblivion.”

She surprised him by smiling and wrapping her arms around him. “I don’t think this is oblivion, I do remember, but it has no hold over me.” She stepped away, still smiling. Neal wasn’t completely comfortable with this new Diana…but when she winked at him, he grinned back. Long may this last!

They moved closer to the others. They were standing outside Neal’s, Peter’s, and what was now Jones’ suite, in the corridor, and all at once Steel stopped speaking, and his eyes suddenly went flat, consciousness withdrawn.

“You feel some threat?” Neal demanded, remembering how he seemed to know that Jones and Diana were at the door the night before, even though no-one, including the dogs, had heard anything. His expression had been similar then. “Should we hide Diana and Jones?”

“I …no, it is no threat. Not to them, not to me…but it is an attempt at an intrusion. Powerful, very dangerous. But not a threat…how odd…I can not place it, it is so strange. But it is here. Close. Shh!” Steel moved on silent feet into Neal’s room, and melted behind the large curtains that could be closed around the bed in very cold weather. The others stayed in the corridor, moving so they couldn’t be seen from the room.

For a few minutes they heard nothing. There were the faintest sounds, and those in the corridor tensed, ready to do battle or whatever was necessary. How could anyone get into that prison of a room? Then suddenly there was a sound and a voice said, “Oh!” softly.

“Who are you?” Steel said, not sounding worried, and a weak voice said, softly but with desperate determination, “Unhand me, Evil Alien!”

It took those in the corridor a few seconds to realise that they had heard the words without the interference of the ear-bugs, and they ran in.

 ** _“Mozzie!”_**   they all shouted as one.

Steel stepped back, saying, in mock horror, “What **_is_** this! Special Offer: Buy three Earth slaves and get a phalanx free? And not one in good condition!”

He wasn’t wrong. As weak, bloody and dirty as Diana and Jones had been yesterday, they seemed in the pink of condition compared to the Mozzie that stood before them.

Moz was so thin that his head seemed twice the normal size. His clothing was literally rags except for a jerkin-thing and a modesty towel round his middle and another acting, Diana supposed, as a scarf. His skin was pale, his eyes dull. He had ragged, deep scratches on either side of his head that must have been very painful, and blood was trickling down in rivulets onto his shoulders. Both ears were badly torn. One lens of his spectacles was smashed.

He saw them and said, apparently to Neal, “I’m sorry. I was careless. Inexcusable.”

“It’s okay, Mozzie! How wonderful to see you!” Neal hugged Mozzie, careful of his frail state and germ phobia. “How on earth did you get…”

Then he saw that Mozzie had taken out the glass of three of the tiny windows and somehow cut or broken the window frames between to make a still tiny but wider space that he had forced himself through, scratching the sides of his head.

“I shall have to get that fixed, though I am sure no-one else would try that!” Steel said, resignedly. “And I am glad Lira stayed.”

“What’s he saying?” Mozzie hissed at Neal. “Will he kill me? How do we get away? I’m sorry, I really am so…”

“Doesn’t matter what he’s saying, it’s not in the least important, and he’s not going to kill you and we don’t get away just yet!” Neal said, hurriedly.

Steel rolled his eyes and Diana grinned. “That’s exactly what Peter does when he’s like that, too, Sir…my Lord. Mozzie is Neal’s greatest friend.”

“Well, he is not leaving here, that is sure,” Steel said, resignedly and a little sourly. “Not without a bath and a good few meals, or my hide is toast! I will tell Tamlin to alert Ophera.”

“And some better clothes!” Diana agreed. “How did he survive in those?”

“Sit, Mozzie!” Jones said, pulling up a hard chair and, looking desperately sad, Mozzie sat.

“How did you get here?” Diana demanded.

“Did you kill your owner, too?” Neal asked.

“No-one owns Dante Haversham, or anyone who looks even vaguely like him!” Mozzie said, sitting up with a brave attempt at dignity, the two tatty towels doing nothing to aid his efforts.

“Then how?”

“I came to rescue you, Neal, and it seems as though the first stage hasn’t worked, but now that we’re together, if that,” he slid his eyes to indicate Steel, who had not moved, “does not kill us, we can formulate a plan!”

“Yes, but how did you get to this Keep? Heaven’s, how did you follow us onto this _**planet?!”**_ Jones demanded.

“I stowed away on one of the ships,” Mozzie explained, as though they were brain-dead. “And I didn’t follow any of you, though I’m glad I saw you two Suits,” he indicated the two FBI agents, “on the street coming here yesterday evening. It made my search easier. I wasn’t sure any of you were here, Neal,” he finished, “but I figured the Suits were coming to you, and then it was just normal surveillance and, er, listening at the window.”

“You stowed away on an alien slave ship,” Diana said, blankly.

“But if you didn’t follow any of us…” Neal blinked, seldom feeling as out-of-his depth (though if he ever did, it was almost always Moz who towed him there). “Why on Earth…sorry…did you get on the ship…?”

“I followed Mrs Suit, obviously.” Mozzie was exhausted; hunger and these stupid questions, added to his assuredly temporary failure, were making him fractious.

“ELIZABETH!” the Earthling voices shouted, and Steel, immediately became involved and knelt at Mozzie’s feet, to that man’s vast surprise and blatant alarm.

“Neal, Neal, ask him if he knows where she is, if she is well!” he demanded, looking up (just) into Mozzie’s face.

Neal complied and Mozzie scowled. “Do we want to tell him? I don’t trust him, I don’t know him! He’s One of Them, the Slavers, the Enemy.”

“He has resources we don’t, Moz. Tell us, please!”

Mozzie considered for a moment, but at last decided that there was little choice. “She was in an awful slave market thing, and was bought by an alien living in the dark stone house…I mean the colour of the outside of the Keep is dark, almost black, inside it isn’t dark, and she’s fine. There’s a ..a…crest, emblem, don’t know what **_They_** call them, of a red horse-thing and a flower. The gates are spiked on top. The hinges are what looks like brass, the doors are studded…”

He went on in great detail, and Neal translated as he listened, making Diana wonder how boring it was for him to have one simple conversation with what must seem simple people. She had enough trouble listening to Mozzie and concentrating while Neal spoke over him.

“Neal! I can understand him!” Steel interrupted. “He can not understand me!” Then he smiled broadly at Mozzie and said, “Tell him he is worth all the weight of gold in the Universe! That Keep belongs to Tremalshal, and he always buys servants. Thank God!”

“I don’t think it’s nice that Elizabeth was bought as a servant,” Diana started, while Neal translated to Mozzie, but Mozzie seemed to agree.

“Yes. You do. Think what else someone might have bought Elizabeth for,” June told her, gravely.

“So Elizabeth is safe and close by! Wait till Peter hears!” Jones grinned whitely from ear to ear, thrilled for his friend.

“Wait,” Steel said. “Let us not tell Peter till we are sure of the circumstances. He is an angry man already. And one of you has already murdered a Keeper…with better reason, but I am not sure Peter will see that! Can I ask you all – all - to keep this a secret until I talk to Tremalshal, whom I know quite well. Let me see if I can purchase Elizabeth from him, and we can surprise Peter with a lovely present!”

The others listened, and though Mozzie was late to the party, as it were, since Neal had to hurriedly translate, they all beamed broadly. “I will not even tell Elizabeth, if I manage this,” Steel plotted, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I will just let her think she is coming here to work, and we will get them together …hah! Oh, this has to succeed!”

Neal grinned at his delight, thinking that the translator was doing better.

“Can we get Mozzie a bath or shower and some food?” Neal asked.

“Anything he wants that I can provide,” Steel nodded. “But food first, I think. And a translator.”

As Neal had predicted, convincing Mozzie to put an ‘Alien Artefact’ so near his brain was almost impossible. But he was in no position to refuse their food, water and clothing; he was at the end of his physical and emotional resources.

“Tell him,” Steel told Neal, reaching the extent of his patience, “that if it does any damage to his unmistakably prodigious brain, I vow to buy him a new one…or grow him one in my science-place.”

“Laboratory,” Diana told Steel – or the ear-bugs.

Neal relayed that to Mozzie and Moz replied, “He is joking, isn’t he?”

“I think so, Moz, but I can’t really be sure! But he says he’ll provide wine if you try the ear-translator-device.”

Steel grinned at Neal, having never having thought to suggest wine! Mozzie frowned, and scowled, and it was with extreme reluctance that he accepted the ear-bug washed down, as it were, with a bottle of rich, red-purple wine.

Peter came into the kitchen while Mozzie was finishing off his food and having his head bandaged so that he now looked like a rather small, tired, very tatty and unsuccessful pirate.

“Mozzie!” Peter shouted, and shook the smaller man’s hand so hard it hurt.

“I want details, later, but please, go with your friends and have a bath. Lucilla, the lady who was helping with your ears? - has already gathered clothing and shoes and left them in your friends’ suite. Lira, a natural healer, will attend to you. I am so looking forward to talking to you this evening, Sir Mozzie,” Steel bowed, and Mozzie looked a little mollified and went off with Peter and Neal.

Neal returned briefly and asked, “We can put another bed in my room with me, can’t we, Lord Steel? There’s enough room.”

“Absolutely. I shall send Joster or Tron to show you where such things are kept, or you can take one out of an empty room or suite, Neal.”

“Moz,” Peter said, almost as soon as they were alone, “you didn’t, you didn’t see anything of Elizabeth, did you?”

“Suit,” Mozzie said, with deep melancholy, “I know she was at home the morning of the…raid…because I called on her there. I am sorry you are not with her, Suit. But I have great respect for Mrs. Suit. She will survive.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Steel is trying to find a way to get us back. He doesn’t like the practice of Shanghaiing slaves,” Neal told Mozzie.

“He **_says._** ” Peter said, disbelievingly. His new disappointment suddenly turned to irritation. “I can’t believe he’s conned a con man!”

“Peter,” Neal snapped, impatiently, “I am willing for him to prove that he is lying by his behaviour. But at present he is harbouring two criminal slaves who are wanted for murdering a Keeper! Why would he be doing that?”

Peter was silent for a moment, then muttered, “To lull us, even as we are trying to fool him?”

“For what purpose?” Neal demanded. “I’m not saying you’re wrong…but why would he be lulling us? He owns us! He could shackle us, whip us, throw us into those rat-infested, filthy dungeons you were imagining. And you keep telling him, for example, that the slave-collars won’t stop us running, so I find your ability to fool anyone extremely poor. You can’t even withhold information!”

“Who murdered a Keeper?” Mozzie asked, as they reached the door of their rooms. Peter explained, and even Mozzie was thoughtful. “So he’s willing to step outside evil laws?” Mozzie queried.

“Yes!” Neal glared at Peter. “Unlike some hide-bound, unthinking, non-resistant, subservient slaves of bureaucracy, incorrect laws or laws incorrectly interpreted or observed.”

“I’ve stepped outside the law now and then for you!” Peter snarled back, taking an angry stride towards the smaller man, his fists clenched. “Risking my career!”

“And every time I’ve skirted the law – for good and right in many cases – you threaten to throw me back in prison, risking my freedom, my future, my _**life!** **”** _ Neal shot back, straightening his shoulders and thrusting forward his chin in turn. “I have never felt totally safe, totally able to trust you, because you used that against me whenever I missed something by just a little. I was always supposed to be so grateful because you’d taken me out, were being my handler! You reminded me how many times that I was a criminal, I’d always be a criminal. I was afraid to say I wouldn’t take a dangerous job or mission for you or the Bureau, because I was always on slippery ground with you.”

“That’s the law!” Peter said.

“Well, that isn’t so, Peter. Parolee’s have rights, too. By law you couldn’t throw me back in prison because I wouldn’t take a dangerous job…” Neal drew a deep breath, closed his eyes for about a second and his voice, eyes, facial expression and stance suddenly changed.

His clothes were the same but he was someone else, an older alias whom Peter had never known: someone with seniority, authority and a position of respect.

He stated, clearly and succinctly in perfect, accentless English:

...“' Morrissey v Brewer, 408 U.S. 471, 1972 … In practice, not every violation of parole ...conditions automatically leads to revocation… Typically, a parolee will be counselled to abide ...by the conditions of parole, and the parole officer ordinarily does not take steps to have ...parole revoked unless he thinks that the violations are serious and continuing, so as to ...indicate that the parolee is not adjusting properly and cannot be counted on to avoid ...antisocial activity….Implicit in the system's concern with parole violation is the notion that ...the parolee is entitled to retain his liberty as long as he substantially abides by the ...conditions of his parole.' ”

Mozzie was smiling slightly, proud of his partner. Peter was thunderstruck, speechless. The transformation to a completely different person spooked Peter at any time: Neal had never needed disguises because he could literally disappear into another skin…Nick Halden had been just a slight variation, Peter had spotted him, but David Tanner, for example, was so sinister and cold that it was only because he knew Neal was in the room that he had tentatively spoken to him. David had looked at him with recognition, but also with an utter detachment he’d never seen in Neal…Neal connected with everyone, especially his friends… creepy.

The very lines on his face fell in different places! Which was why, before he’d been caught, the rare photographs of Neal were unreliable, unrecognisable; eye-witnesses would describe Caffrey, but when they saw him in person were just not sure… _the hair was the right colour…but I couldn’t swear to it._

Even seeing him and then seeing a video or photograph of the same persona seemed to elicit a similar response, as though he literally projected in person, and the camera couldn’t pick it up.

Peter had obtained advice from several experts, psychologists and even an FBI profiler, suspecting that Neal Caffrey might actually have a multiple personality disorder. Except in his line of work, it was no disorder, but an advantage, but they all told him (with thinly concealed scorn) that such a thing couldn’t be harnessed and put to productive…? …well, from Neal’s perspective, productive use.

The profile had been so wrong he had doubted all their findings!

This new Neal variant was almost as disparate from him as Tanner and was also completely correct, which was why Peter had soon avoided threatening him with re-incarceration at all. It didn’t bring out the best in Neal, anyway. And now he could see how deep the resentment had gone when Hughes or he himself had done it early on.

And he _**had**_ always reminded everyone….especially himself…that Neal was a criminal and could be trusted to do what a brilliant conman does!

Neal shook off the persona, and with it the muscle-memory of legal precedent – and the restraints. He ran his fingers through his hair, took another step forward and went on, “But, Burke, - Burke the Jerk! - I couldn’t fight _**you**_. You could put me back in prison, because I couldn’t have another handler, and you knew it. All you had to do was say that you didn’t want to work with me anymore, that our deal wasn’t working. It wasn’t about the law, or right or wrong. When I stepped outside the law, or disobeyed your orders and it worked to close a case, you were _**fine**_ with that!”

At that moment Steel stepped into the diminishing gap between Neal and Peter. He spoke, and his voice was so quiet that it rocked the stone walls that had seconds before been echoing with fury and resentment. “I would ask you to take yourselves off to the armoury, choose weapons and sort out your disagreements…preferably without blood-shed. You are friends having a quarrel, but friends nevertheless. However, I will not have this here and now. So go. Sir Mozzie needs rest and care, not conflict.”

“But - ” started Peter, and Steel held up a hand. “I am soft and lax in many ways, Peter, but now you stop and walk away. Now.”

Peter and Neal both left him and walked off down the corridor. Steel watched them and sighed. He glanced at Joster, who was standing quietly by the wall.

“Those were things that Neal needed to say,” Mozzie told Steel.

“That is your opinion, and it may be true for all I know. But they are also reacting to a long period of stress and insecurity. Let them go and hit each other with wooden swords or something similar.”

“Neal is actually a rather accomplished fencer, back home. Foils, rapier, even heavier blades.”

“Then he will temper his skill…he is not a violent man.”

“No, he isn’t. Seldom wastes the energy, to tell you the truth!” Mozzie told him with a slight smile.

“Sir Mozzie, are you physically capable by yourself? You have been living with so little for so long…I can call Jones or one of my menservants, since the others are now otherwise engaged.”

“Thank you, but I believe I will manage, since the food you provided has given me some of my strength back. I may be slow, through fatigue, but rather I work at my own pace than irritate Junior Suit or one of your men.”

“Go, bathe. Try on clothes. Start to feel like yourself,” Steel smiled down at the shorter man. “This evening after supper, I wish to talk with you…you have insights we could use. I will go this afternoon and try and speak to Mrs Suit’s new owner and hope to solve one problem easily and quickly, and then Peter will calm down, I believe.”

“Yes,” Mozzie said, surprising himself by liking the Evil Alien, partly because he used Mozzie’s name for Elizabeth, “he’ll be able to waste his excess energy in more positive ways!”

Steel grinned. “Joster and I will get you a bed while you shower or bathe, since our help has left us to go and do combat! It will be ready for you when you are finished.

When Steel left the suite with Joster, his long legs eating up the corridors, he didn’t bother to check on Peter and Neal. If the two fools really wanted to hurt each other, they would find a way, after all. He judged they had no such desire.

He was right. By the time they reached the armoury, their hard strides had become slightly shuffling steps.

“Dammit, Neal,” Peter started. He paused, then asked, rather sadly, “You really took on jobs that scared you, because they scared you less than prison?”

Neal looked down, shoved his hands in his pockets…thankfully, these aliens had discovered pockets…and muttered, “Yeah, now and then. The other inmates would have known I was a snitch and my life would have been worth less than nothing. And before I discovered the law protected me. And sometimes afterwards, so as not to disappoint you, or to secure a win for the team.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled back. “I’m just terrified about Elizabeth. There’s a war there…and I’m here, and I have no way of knowing…”

“Peter!” Neal said. “You don’t need to tell me! Until today, I didn’t know about Mozzie! I’ve known him longer than you’ve known Elizabeth…he’s saved my life on many occasions, been there for me…I know you dislike him because he’s a conman….”

“I don’t dislike him. I distrust him, but I don’t dislike him. El likes him, that must count for something. She’s smart.”

“Yes. She is.”

“Do you think our Lord and Master Steel will mind if we skip the fight?” Peter made a face that was part smile, part grimace.

“I don’t think he expected us to get that far. He’s smarter than he looks. Or perhaps that’s unfair…he’s smart, just looks young.”

“Yeah. He may be four hundred hears old, for all we know!”

“That’s true. You don’t want to fight?”

“No. It’s stupid to fight your friends, especially when you really are a stranger in a strange land…”

“…and your friend is not inadequate when it comes to edged and pointed weapons.”

Peter glared. Neal grinned. They walked back the way they had come. Neal was still grinning, and Peter was wondering _(Morrissey, indeed!)_ how to cause him to fall on his ass on the nice, hard, stone. Which meant that Peter was smiling, too.

 

 

End of Chapter 3 


	4. The Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie finds an unexpected ally in Lord Steel.

 

 

 

 That evening, Steel joined all the Earthlings in Steel Keep in the Greatroom. He had been fortunate when he sent word to Tremalshal; the man had been readying an entourage to leave to go to the capital, and had met with him at short notice.

At first he had been extremely reluctant to think of parting with Elizabeth: she was attractive, but more important, she was organised and could prepare meals he enjoyed and that didn’t upset his stomach. However, he did dislike the fact that she cried and seemed sad even when she wasn’t actually shedding tears…he liked his Keep cheerful, and it didn’t look as though she was going to become less gloomy in the foreseeable future.

So when Steel offered him enough to pay for two or three cooks, he agreed, and gave him a writ authorising him to remove Elizabeth the next day (after he had left, therefore ensuring that his man would have adequate time to find and train replacements.)

Steel waited till Peter was turned away, talking to Jones, and winked at the rest. They smiled, but immediately sobered as Peter turned.

“So, Sir Mozzie, you have surprised me more than the rest of these odd Earthlings,” Steel bowed a little to him.

Mozzie was dressed in a rather long, ornate and very rich-looking jacket over black soft pants, and somehow Neal was reminded some oriental nobleman of high esteem. Apparently Lira had visited him and worked on him while he rested, and he did look remarkably better.

“Now, do tell us, how did you survive a slave ship as a stowaway and how did you survive here and find your friends?”

“My secrets are my own, Evil Alien,” Mozzie said, putting his nose up a little and steepling his fingers. “But suffice to say it took all my resources.”

“The translators are doing a much better job, Lord Steel,” Neal remarked. “How do you update the databases? You haven’t asked for ours. Are they wireless…?”

Steel looked completely confused. “Of course they have no metal strips…”

“Yes,” Peter asked, “but they seem to understand a greater vocabulary than at first, more of the grammar...do they store our conversations somewhere?”

“I told you, they learn,” Steel pointed out."They do not store conversations, just words and the way they are used."

“Upgrade? But how… do the newer ones have a bigger memory? If they’re a wire-less technology, there must be a transmitter…” Neal asked, trying to work it out, glad that he had distracted Steel from asking questions Mozzie might not want to answer.

“No. Some have a larger memory, faster access, better…ability to put things together? More creative? They are each a little different, as are we.”

“As are we, who?” Jones asked.

“Tamlin and Brak and Ophera and I are all different. We are having a translation problem, are we not?”

“You mean…you mean you’re a machine? An AI…artificial intelligence?” Mozzie demanded, and the Earthlings drew back subtly.

“Not Vulcans, the _**Borg,”**_ Neal murmured, his voice deep and dismayed.

“’Resistance is futile’,” quoted Mozzie, softly.

Steel blinked round at them. “No, of course not. But – but neither are the translators. They choose to help us. They enjoy learning.”

“They’re alive?” Diana gasped, starting to reach for her ear.

“Yes, and benign, harmless, kind, good, beneficial,” their ear-bugs tried a thesaurus imitation to calm them down as Steel spoke.

June huffed and sat back. “It’s been in my ear helping me all this time, I’m just glad of it. And from what we’ve experienced it has certainly been a boon.”

The others thought hard for a moment or two. Had the bugs been machines, they could have been programmed for some evil intent. Likewise, as sentient beings they could be good, or bad.

“We might as well go on using them, the reasons we accepted them still apply,” Peter groaned.

“Sometimes the strange land is stranger than at other times,” Neal agreed.

“But do your people use machines to …gather information…about you?” Steel asked. “From your reactions…”

“Yes, they do,” Mozzie said. “Computers, library cards, cell phones, tax records…”

“Oh, now you’ve started something, my Lord!” Diana made a face. “The conspiracy theorist is alive, awake and loose upon the Keep!”

“But is that not as bad as slavery, taking your information, your privacy?” Steel asked. “You said there was no slavery on your planet.”

“There is,” Mozzie said. “But the greatest trick is to make the average person believe there is no slavery, that everyone is equal, has equal rights…everyone knows it doesn’t always apply if they think about it, but they shut their eyes to it.”

“Come on, Moz. This is old,” Peter told him. "None of us have a problem with it!"

Mozzie said, calm in his certainty, " 'It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.' "

"Krishnamurti?" Neal whispered a question, and Moz nodded.

“We-ll,” started Jones, “let’s be honest, Peter, even now, especially in the poorer neighbourhoods, the black people get less justice, less help from the police and other services, all poor people do, but you know the statistics for black youth in prison?”

“You have black people on your planet?” Steel asked, intrigued. They all looked at him, puzzled. Was he blind, or able only to see shapes…they realised that they took so much for granted!

“We’re black,” Jones said. “June, Diana and I, we’re black.”

Steel blinked and shook his head. “There must be some malfunction today…perhaps they have caught some infection? – this,” he fingered his leather belt, “ —is black. Your skin is darker than his,” he waved at Neal, "but hardly **_black.”_**

“No, you’re quite right. Their skin isn’t actually the colour black, our skin isn’t really the colour white,” Neal chuckled. “But that’s how people were divided, sometimes. Recently, well, until sadly only a few decades ago, black folks were often sold as slaves. And I don’t think any of it was pretty or consensual.”

“I went to Nigeria once, see my ‘roots’,” Jones told them, dryly. “I have to say I am glad that my forebears were carried away and I ended up in North America, even though there were probably some very bad times for them.”

“There’re still people sold. And the very fact that blacks were pitted against whites, Protestants against Catholics, all those divisions are, if not created, then fostered so that bad guys – sometimes in governments – can use the division to conquer,” Mozzie affirms.

“You see conspiracy everywhere, Moz,” Diana chided.

"'You laugh at me because I'm different, but I laugh at you because you're all the same.'" Mozzie felt the quotation said it all.

“As I understand you,” Steel started, “a conspiracy is…a criminal group?”

“A conspiracy is a group of people working together with a common cause to bring down a government, to control a people…to do evil.” Neal was looking at his fingernails, not ever wanting to question Mozzie. This was one of the pillars of Mozzie’s world, and he would never weaken it willingly.

“Actually, if you go to older dictionaries, the word was initially used as a positive…a group of people working towards harmonious change…it means breathing together, and we now know that sync-ing breathing develops empathy, even some telepathy…but now it is used exclusively as the negative, probably because that’s how the law defines it, and that’s another conspiracy…legal changes to words so that people don’t understand them.” Mozzie scowled. .....“Why should statutes and acts have to have a list of definitions and not just give a dictionary reference? Because they often define words totally differently: people believe they are reading English and understanding it. It’s truly corrupt. Of course the so-called justice system, the legal system, is a conspiracy.”

Steel looked around. “And you believe not in such things, the rest of you?”

“Oh, no, they exist, just not on the scale or as commonly, as Mozzie would believe,” Peter told him. “Every time something is wrong, every story the government or the large media puts out, Mozzie considers a conspiracy. Or rather, considers a conspiracy a certainty!”

“Mmmm….like the cover-up the governments did, especially the US government…that’s the United States of America, Evil Alien, our country…about the existence of extra-terrestrial intelligence.”

This made Peter pause. “They might not have known…”

“How many astronauts, let alone pilots, police, scientists, came forward despite ridicule, to report sightings?” Mozzie insisted.

“But – but…” Steel cut across the UFO argument, “…the rest of you must be rather…trusting? I know you are not stupid! Of course, Sir Mozzie is right.”

Mozzie was visibly startled, then beamed around smugly. “Finally!”

“But Lord Steel…” Diana started.

“I do not know your Earth, of course, but tell me three large movements, changes, that have taken place because of one man, alone.”

“Well, Jesus Christ started a whole religion…changed the morals and principles of many people,” Jones said, after there had been a pause.

“No, Junior Suit. He didn’t. If He had, it might have been because He was the son of God, but even He chose twelve men who were prepared to preach what He had taught and then to die in horrible ways to prove they believed He had died and risen. Otherwise, He would have disappeared from the tomb and the authorities would have just said His body had been stolen.”

“I would have thought that religion would be one of your pet-hate conspiracies!” Peter exclaimed.

“Yes, almost all religion has aspects, sometimes strong aspects of control,” Mozzie nodded. “But that doesn’t mean they are based on evil. The Bible, in this example, has many aspects that have much in common with quantum physics, very empowering, and therefore is worthy of much study. It cannot be discounted as mere fantasy.

.....“Not only that, Suit, but a large proportion of the art of certain periods and countries is, at least influenced by religion, so it is an important study for me from that aspect as well.

....."If I was ever interested in art, that is. For any reason. Ever. At all.”

“Martin Luther King was an inspired spokesperson, but he certainly wasn’t alone,” Diana muttered.

“Gandhi made huge changes and was instrumental in bringing about freedoms, a very forward thinker, but he almost always used existing groups. He just managed to steer them in constructive directions. He’s probably the closest I can think of!” June agreed.

“If there is a planet out there,” Steel waved, “with a government that is attempting only good, telling the people everything, with no thought for profit, not helping their friends for mutual gain or good jobs after their government time is up, I have yet to hear about it. They are all secretive, only revealing what they think the people will like, and very often those so-called plans to benefit people come to nothing.

.....“Businesses are also like that. They are only after profits. Hurting people, creating pollution, products that do not work but that cannot be returned…this is all somthing they can live with so long as it remains secret.

....."I am surprised that the rest of you are so gullible.

.....“We had much more of that when we were a more commercial society. But the politics still remain corrupt, which is how the interpretation of the slave laws have become so dreadful. The very rich just do what they like, and few dare stand up to them.

“Our money is tainted, too, and not just in the area of buying unwilling slaves.”

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Mozzie jumped to his feet. “Every major and almost all minor currencies on Earth are now just like the US’s. Fiat money, fake money! The biggest white collar crime in history…all the central banks. And these suits,” he waved at Peter, Diana and Jones,” are the White Collar crime unit and they, along with almost everyone else, do nothing about it, to the detriment of the country and the people. He,” Mozzie stabbed at Peter with a finger, “is an accountant!”

“That’s just conspiracy nutters raving, Mozzie. Our money…”

Mozzie demanded. “The USA had a good infrastructure before income tax was brought in…look it up. The Constitution  - which is also a great basis that has been corrupted or disregarded - provides for the creation of money by the government of the people, and not borrowed at interest. Anyone who thinks that’s an improvement is crazy!”

Steel grinned at the man's vehemence. “It sounds the same as what happened here. We used to have two types of reserves, I think you would call them: the worth of the people’s labour and gold, silver and platinum. Now there is nothing to stop loans without reserves, though doing away with a lot of machines has helped. That was how they made fake money. We also have people, something like Lira, who can check on fraud and fakes.”

“Oh, check-fraud,” Neal chuckled. “My speciality…well, one of them…”

“Allegedly!” all the Earthlings chorused.

“It’s quite true, computers have made it all a great deal easier, banks just click a few keys and a million dollars appears, but the poor mooch who signs for it…often using a house as collateral before he owns the house he’s getting a loan for, by the way, which is fraud in itself, now has to pay back three million over twenty-five years.” Mozzie was saddened as well as angry.

..…“One of the nastier men who benefited, is reported as saying, ‘Give me control of a nation's money and I care not who makes its laws’.

.….“And what about income tax…the simplest thing, Suit! You are forced by law to fill in your income tax forms every year, and you have to get them right. Or you have to pay another do it for you, but the onus is still on you that the figures are exactly correct, though often the government gets its figures wrong with no penalty. Yet no-one pays you for your time! It is enforced by the very police whose salaries you pay! So not only is that an obvious and blatant example of slavery, enforced work for no pay, but it’s also extortion on a massive scale.”

“It isn’t that many hours, or days,” Peter argued without much conviction, and Mozzie just made a face, leaving Jones to rebut,“But by that argument, stealing a loaf of bread from each man and woman in the USA is not theft because it isn’t a lot of money from each person, Peter? What about those computer hackers that stole the fractions of cents from every transaction, and ended up with millions? We went after them with all our resources and it was almost a victimless crime!”

“But what about roads and hospitals…?” Even Peter knew this was a spurious argument.

“I mentioned, Suit, that we had a great country, with a good infrastructure, before income tax, and places that have none have perfectly good roads and things, so long as there is a decent economy. Those are paid for, in large part, by property taxes.” Mozzie was getting impatient with Peter’s stubbornness.

.....“Look, you live in supposedly the free-est country in the world. Yet you have to be registered at birth, you have to register for a Social Security Number, you in effect have to open one bank account or more, get a credit card because there are many things you can’t do without one, your purchases are tracked, your library cards and internet usage are all logged and accessible.

..…“You have to have a digital photograph on everything, chips embedded in things, even retail purchases! Your dog, gun and car need licences – that’s just the start. You have to have a driver’s licence – another picture. Then there is your passport, embedded with your fingerprints and visas to other countries. Your marriage is no longer a private contract, or a religious contract, but a state-legalised union ..and if you have children, they have to be registered at birth…you are forced to share your information with so many government departments, and that’s even if you don’t choose to enter a profession that requires a background check. Your credit rating can be accessed by many people…your digital voice-mail messages survive forever, and as for people crazy enough to use Facebook or Twitter…don’t get me started!

..…"Your Bureau knows all about Kaleidoscope and such programmes that can find almost any face, any car, any damn dog in the USA unless they are hiding in a deep mine! You do realise that, crazy social media notwithstanding, those things were forced on our citizens in about the last hundred years – all hidden under the guise of being good for us in some way or another. And that’s in the Good Old Land of the Free…and Home of the Brave Enough to survive there.

.....“Now tell me how much of your information your slave master here will have, unless you choose to tell him, even if you live here the rest of your natural life!” Mozzie was steaming.

Peter, Jones and especially Diana were looking a little taken aback; Neal was looking grave.

Steel looked at Mozzie with keen eyes and said, “I knew you were brilliant, brave, resourceful and intelligent, I cannot imagine how much courage it took to board an alien vessel with nothing: no weapons, no concept of who they were or their abilities or intentions, just on the off chance you could help Neal, because it was raiding his building.”

Neal smiled a little. Steel was as good at keeping to a story as Mozzie was!

“Now I know you see past the…”

“Smoke and mirrors, we’d call it,” Neal put in

“ … smoke and mirrors, then,” Steel nodded, “to the truths. And you have a great sense of humour and are loyal to your friends. I would be honoured to call you a friend some day.”

“Evil Alien, I feel I must agree that you have great perspicacity,” Mozzie smiled smugly, retaking his seat. "On the other hand, as Oscar Wilde noted, 'Whenever people agree with me I always feel I must be wrong.'"

“Really, since he likes you and admires you, don’t you think, Mozzie, that you could stop calling him the **_Evil Alien_** with every breath, especially as here we’re the aliens, he’s a local?” June chided gently.

“I still call him Suit, and that that he’s wearing isn’t really a suit,” Mozzie pointed with a bent thumb at Peter. “And the Evil Alien knows when an insult is really a term of endearment.”

“Endearment?” Neal demanded.

“Well, that’s a bit strong. A term of mutual admiration?”

Steel laughed.

“And Alien,” Mozzie said, making a concession, “how telepathic are you? Is that in part your ear-bug?”

Steel chuckled again. “I told you! You are the brightest! Not one of the others has noticed, and you have just arrived and are still recovering from your ordeal!”

“But yes, you say you’ll ‘call’ Tamlin, and she comes, or June comes or something, but you’ve never physically moved; therefore, you’re talking mind to mind, or the ear-bugs are.”

“No, The ear-bugs as you call them talk not to others. I am a little empathic, I have weak telepathy, so it works better with people such as Tamlin and Shiral, who are very powerful both senders and receivers, and I have a mediocre gift of healing,” Steel told them.

“I thought all that was bunk, too!” Peter said, ruefully.

“Come now, Peter – all of you are in law enforcement or law evasion, and there is some risk and some …sensitivity needed. I will wager that all of you, to some degree, have what we call gifts…intuition, I think June called it the other day?”

“You’re quite right,” Neal nodded. “Peter calls it his Gut, and No-one Bets Against It.”

“It’s true, Peter!” laughed Diana in delight, and Jones and Neal looked across in surprise. She was so much more light-hearted, here!

Peter now looked thoughtfully at Steel. “So you would know if Neal was lying?”

“Oh, Peeter, that’s just mean!” Neal scowled, looking uncomfortable.

“I might,” Steel glinted across at Neal, who was looking just a little pressured under the combined regard. “But he is mine at present, so I will keep his thoughts to myself.”

“Now _**that’s**_ mean!” Peter told him.

“We-ell…wouldn’t it be hearsay, what an Alien on a planet gained through his telepathic talent, where there are live translating bugs – real **_bugs_** – and telepathic people, and tall women who sing you well, horses with purple eyes and happy slaves…would you really want to place any facts thus gained into evidence?” June chuckled.

“You have a point, June, but I could take it out of his hide myself!” Peter grinned.

"'Policemen so cherish their status as keepers of the peace and protectors of the public that they have occasionally been known to beat to death those citizens or groups who question that status,' Mamet said," noted Mozzie quietly. Neal nudged him with a grin. He considered that Mozzie had spent his time on the spaceship keeping sane by remembering all his many beloved quotations!

“Again, his hide belongs to me at present. So, no. Unless by fair means and square in the Arm’s Hall…I am going to be practising tomorrow more than usual, so if you would like to be there, I will make sure he plays fair.” Steel stretched, cracking joints.

 

After breakfast, (during which the dark child who seemed to have taken a shine to Neal watched him eat until Ophera called, Junoel, off you go! School!) Diana and the men made their way to the Arm’s Hall. There was the sound of soft thudding footsteps, panting breathing and the clack of hard objects. When they could look in, there was Steel and a taller, much older, much more muscular man. They each had a dark wooden dagger and sword, and were engaged, drawing back, rushing in. They had obviously been at it for a good while: both were literally dripping with sweat, their muscles shaking.

Neal was very impressed. Even nearing the point of exhaustion, Steel was lightening-quick. He used the sword as a distraction most of the time, either punching with his dagger-hand, jabbing with the pointed dagger handle, or slashing across the older man’s wrist, abdomen or face, just shy of connecting. The sword was always ready, however, to do damage if the situation presented itself.

The rapier on Earth had often been used with other weapons, such as a dagger, or even a cloak, but here he used the sword as the back-up weapon.

The older man was less tired, and quicker. Neither lost any concentration as the new slaves entered and quietly found seats. Then, after another few minutes of fast, aggressive action, Steel lost his footing in the straw, fell backwards, limbs sprawling awkwardly, his face a study in horror, and the older man stepped in, hesitated at the last second but was too late to withdraw and avoid the point of Steel’s sword as he whisked it upwards with a twist of his wrist and just touched his opponent’s abdomen.

“Mean trick,” the defeated warrior said, his voice gravelly. “You have not resorted to that in years!”

“Desperation...and never a mean trick if it works,” grinned Steel as he allowed his friend to pull him up – and pull him right off-balance and head-first into a straw-bale. They both laughed.

“Good work-out. Enough, though…you can over-do it, you know?”

“Never know when endurance may be the key.”

“It is true, but you need to also keep your energy up. Chances are, it will seldom be a marathon. Most run when they encounter real skill.”

“Is that a compliment to me, or to yourself as a great teacher?” Steel demanded, wiping his hair and face with a towel.

“Both! I need to shower and go and get the babies started.”

“Oh, Leran, these are the Earthlings, I believe you met Peter?”

“Yes, do practise, Peter. I know you are used to guns and empty-hand fighting, but if you stay here you must know at least how to defend against a sword-wielding opponent.” He left.

“Let me rest a few moments,” Steel panted, sitting down beside them. “Neal, you fence, I was told…which is swordplay?”

“Not so much with a cutlass, which is what your sword looks most like, an elongated cutlass, but, yeah, a little. Usually a foil, sometimes a rapier. It’s very stylized, though, compared to your combat fighting. Your reflexes are excellent.”

“Less so after an hour, on and off, but I suppose that is why we practise.”

“No wonder you’re thin,” Peter said, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a lot of calories!” Steel looked puzzled and Peter tried, “That’s a lot of energy! From your food!”

Steel nodded, and leaned back, shaking his sword arm muscles loose. “I try fighting all the decent fighters in our Keep and other, friendly Keeps but Leran, who taught me, for heaven’s sake, he is the best of the best.”

“Why was it, then,” Neal asked, leaning forward to look at him, “that you and Joster took part in the competition?”

“Everyone else wanted to boycott if Leran entered,” Steel grinned. “He won it fifteen times in a row! It was just a competition for second place, and not very exciting, therefore.”

“So now you will win it fifteen times?” Diana suggested.

“Probably not in a row. I will not enter next year, let Joster win, then he can let me win…” Steel chuckled.

“Fast reflexes and modest, too!” Jones noted.

“But you have a little army, guards, swordsmen to protect you,” Peter asked, “like Joster. So why are you so driven to be good yourself?”

“Driving, like team of horses?” Steel asked.

“Motivated,” Diana explained.

“Well, um, I often do things that…um…put me in danger, when there are just one or two people with me,” Steel said, not looking at them. Peter was strongly put in mind of Neal when he was in the middle of a con and Peter had asked just the wrong…or right, depending on your point of view!…question. Except Neal hid his discomfort much, much better.

“You sound as though you rob banks,” Jones said.

There was a pause.

“You _**don’t!”**_ Neal said, with the inflection that said, _**You do!** , _ his face split into a huge grin, his eyes brilliant. “That’s how you make your money! Oh, I want to be in on one…no-one has been a brilliant wanted felon on two planets…oh! Perhaps they have!” The light dimmed a little, then revived. “Well, no-one from Earth has!

.....“Please, Lord Steel! Please! Please!”

“Four, five tops!” Peter despaired.

Neal turned on him, excitedly, “Imagine _**that**_ in my file!…better, if I let you catch me again, think of how it’ll look on _**your**_ résumé! Peter Burke, Special Agent, caught the incomparable Neal Caffrey, terror of two planets…almost a pity it couldn’t be three. Two seems a little paltry. ‘Terror of three planets!’- see, much better.”

“I do not rob places that keep money,” Steel grinned at the eager conman.

The light died completely. “Thought it was too good to be true! That’d be like Peter letting on that he was really Danny Ocean once I got my tracking anklet, and not a stuffy Fed.” Neal’s mouth down-turned mulishly. Then he looked up at Steel speculatively.

Steel said, “No, Neal.”

“But, but – you didn’t let me ask! I could really help with—”

“I do not need any empathy to pick up your thoughts, Neal,” laughed Steel.

“But if you had more money, you could help more slaves! I could help pay for all your out-of-pocket expenses incurred because of us…clothing, healing, food…you may not know it, but Peter eats an awful lot! Rubbish, mostly, but really, a huge amount! And you said yourself that the monetary system is corrupt! Oh…how do you feel about counterfeit? Fake money good enough to pass as real, often better? We could take down the entire financial system and you could take over and built it up better!”

“You know, that is an idea….” Steel mused, suddenly.

Peter, Jones and Diana said, _**“No!”**_

“You can’t encourage him to break the law! I’ve just spent years…we all have …trying to reform him!” Peter stated, loudly.

“Speak for yourself, Suit,” Mozzie put in. “Neal and I just avoid the evil laws and try and live according to right and wrong.”

Before Peter could blast him with words, Steel’s voice cut across them. “You know, Peter, you are always very ready to tell me…your _**owner**_ …what I can and can not do,” Steel said, softly, and with rather sinister undertones. Neal rapidly altered his appraisal of the young lord upwards.

Peter swallowed. “It isn’t right,” he tried, keeping his voice down.

“I am sure Neal was more…submissive with you when you were in charge of his life. And it is not right to tear down something corrupt?” Steel asked.

“Oh, oh, he’s going to let me do it! Bring down the entire financial structure of a planet! Oh, do you **_have_** cameras? Videos?” Neal literally bounced. “I’m not usually keen, but I need some proof…just not admissable in a court of law…newspaper interviews with witnesses will do…heresay, or…”

“Well, no,” Peter answered Steel, trying to put his thoughts into words. “B-but how can anyone know when something is right or wrong except by keeping to the laws…”

“It’s called a conscience, Peter!” Neal put in, wanting him to shut up so they could get on with the exciting, planning part. “Remember Nuremberg…Hitler, for heaven’s sake, was a legal ruler, voted in by the people – would you have been hiding Jews and black folks and all the other groups he targeted, or turning them over to the Gestapo because of Hitler’s totally legitimate, though crazy, laws?

.....“What about the Revolutionary War? Would you have sided with the British because they were in power? Taxation without representation?”

Peter groaned. “There are times…”

“Good! We have you thinking, Peter, though I do not know Neal’s examples…but I do not want to bring down the whole financial structure, Neal.”

“Oh, but **_why!”_ ** Neal really did sound like a whingeing two year old now, Diana thought, grinning.

“Because many people would get hurt, Neal. Ordinary people. We can not do that.”

“You’re right,” Neal agreed, grumpily. “Why did you raise my hopes just to dash them? To teach Peter a lesson?”

“Added gift,” Steel chuckled. “No, I do want you to fake something for me…”

“Bonus,” Diana said, for the ear-bugs’ benefit.

Neal perked up.

“No!” Peter started all over again.

“But yes! He is mine, and I shall order him to do whatever I want him to do!” Steel put one eyebrow up at Peter.

“I suppose,” Neal murmured, “since I am a **_slave_** , and therefore have no right to refuse, I am technically innocent of anything I do under duress…?”

Steel burst out laughing. “My translator did not get all of that, but enough. You, Neal, are a scoundrel! I shall have to try some methods of duress on you! But how would you like to forge some new identity papers and papers of possession for Jones and Diana, showing that they are mine by valid purchase and giving them alternate names?”

Neal beamed.

“I assume your jobs involve sometimes pretending, sometimes being somebody else?” Steel asked them all, and all the Earthlings turned as one, looked at Neal and cracked up, laughing so long and hard that Steel demanded explanations that none of them were in any condition to give.

Neal gathered his wits first and said, “In the pursuit of my alleged career, I have at times allegedly assumed many, many other names, or aliases, as we would call them. They think it’s funny.”

“I see that,” Steel remarked, looking over the writhing FBI agents. Even Mozzie was grinning broadly. “You think you can forge these papers?”

“If I can see some real originals and have some help with raw materials, the paper and ink and so on, I’m confident I can. I’ve never met something I can’t forge… let’s call it copy…or a lock I can’t pick,” he said, with simple pride.

“And Peter,” Steel queried, “do you think it will work to give Jones and Diana new papers and aliases? Then if someone does come looking for them, they will not be here, and I will have legal proof they are another Earth couple…we have to keep their Earth-heritage because they have distinctive looks.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea!” Peter nodded, still grinning.

“There you are,” Neal said to Steel. “Double standards. I can break the law with his blessing so long as he thinks it’s a good idea.”

“That is a little…um…” Steel hesitated.

“Hypocritical,” Jones supplied.

“Et tu, Jones?” Peter muttered. “Remember, we might get back home, and then you belong to me!”

“Well, not exactly, Peter,” Jones smiled back. “You’re just my supervisor. You belong to Lord Steel…he bought you! Even Neal doesn’t belong to you, like that!”

Steel made a face. “Jones, once this oh-so-young-and-brilliant forger creates ownership documents, and I get collars for you and Diana, you are going to belong to me, too.”

Jones waggled his hand. “Yes and no…it’s by choice, Lord Steel. We came here!”

“Like me, with Peter,” Neal said. “After all, I could always have run.”

“You forget, I always found you,” Peter pointed out, a little heated. He disliked feeling in the minority, he was used to people agreeing with him, admiring him. Had it all been merely his position in the Bureau?

“Well, Suit, that’s just not true. You were chasing him across two continents for many years, (though he worked on four) hundreds of alleged jobs…you actually caught him once, and that was because of two things: he really liked you and was playing with you, forgetting that you aren’t a man, but an agent sworn to a faceless and heartless bureaucracy … and he was trying crazier and crazier things, to amaze both Kate and, I suspect, you, with his skill and daring.”

“Yeah, if I truly ran, I wouldn’t be playing. You wouldn’t find me, Peter.”

“I caught you within hours of your escape from Supermax!”

“It hardly counts if the prey is so wounded – and not by you – that he sits and waits for the hunter to stumble upon him!” Mozzie told him.

“You are the most interesting group of slaves I have ever…obtained in various ways!” Steel commented. “The ear-translators are learning all sorts of interesting words and concepts!”

“I’m glad for them!” Peter said, snappily. “And I didn’t stumble…!”

“Come on, show me your skills, Peter, Diana, Jones…and especially the brilliant forger!” Steel climbed rather stiffly to his feet, but was soon loosening up. Mozzie sat and watched, tapping a wooden practise sword on the floor between his feet, admiring his protégé as he advanced and retreated gracefully, leaving the others, who had little or no experience, in the dust. Steel, however, put him flat-footed and ‘slain’ within a minute, but nodded. “For someone who has never used this combination, and not practised regularly, you have all the potential.”

Neal stepped back and straightened. “I always liked fencing…great disguises, they wear masks and full gear! These swords are heavier by about a half, though, than my favourite rapier, and it was over-average length and weight. A gorgeous antique piece out of Italy, such a finely crafted blade, an artistic, well-balanced swept-hilt…um, handle?”

Peter glanced over and Diana took the opportunity to touch him with her sword, and grin like a fiend.

“Allegedly!” Neal called across at them.

The Lord replied to Neal, “The practice swords are heavier than our real swords, to build strength and speed.”

Steel happily showed them all a few basics, and again nodded. “You are all athletic and in good physical condition. Already your coordination is helping you pick up the moves and balance you need. Four seasons and you would all be very good, I think, especially if Leran works with you.”

When they were tired, Steel took them all to see the horses, and introduced them to the Stable Master, Klenalth. “Come and ride this afternoon, how would you like to do that? Klenalth will pick out some horses that will suit your levels of expertise, the weather is good at present, it will be fun. I would come and join you, but have some business to sort out…and I need to find out from a friend if I can obtain the right materials for Neal.”

“I’d like that,” Clinton nodded. “I’ve never ridden, but always wanted to. Cowboys and Indians as a boy, I guess...” he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“And then you became a good guy with a gun fighting crime in real life,” Peter said. “Don’t put down where your dreams come from.”

 

 

End of Chapter 4

 

(Let me know how many of you are still with me!)


	5. Forced into Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finds it difficult being on the subservient side of a power differential.

 

 

That afternoon Neal and Mozzie settled down with all the Bills of Sale and Papers of Ownership that Steel had for all of his slaves, and started putting together some aliases…they were concentrating, working, not smiling. Both were completely content.

June sat by the table near them, sewing and mending for Lucilla. Neal was surprised that she was so good at it, and she told him it used to calm her on long nights when Byron ‘worked’, and when he was ‘away’.

“It’s sort of mindless and comforting and productive,” she told him. “My mother made sure I had all the domestic skills before I left school, and though when Byron had made his fortune I didn’t need them as often, I still enjoy doing some of them.”

"I feel like that about painting...time ceases. I'm in a totally safe and peaceful place. If it's working, that is!"

Having sent a few of his trusted slaves bearing confidential letters to friends who might be able to help with the documents, Steel dressed up and went down to the study, where June, Neal and Mozzie were working.

Neal looked up and inclined his head with a slight smile. “Well, well, Lord Steel in all his Glorious and Most Noble Keeperhood!”

Brak walked in after him and said, “You have seen little. I hope that before you leave us you have the pleasure of seeing my Master Caerrovon in full Court Dress.”

“Stop bragging about your charge, Brak!” Steel smiled.

“The carriage is ready.”

“Why are you fetching her in your carriage?” Neal asked.

Steel answered what Neal was really asking. “I was visiting friends and decided to pick her up on my way home, before my friend Tremalshal decides to change his mind!”

“She will never ask, Master,” Brak shrugged.

“I would put nothing beyond the reach of these Earthlings!” Steel told him, feelingly.

“Perhaps especially Elizabeth. She is very practical and astute and sees beneath the surface of things,” June looked up to say.

“Alien 2.I.C., it isn’t having a ready answer, though that is always good. It’s about the Top Alien knowing the reason he’s there, in his carriage. About his persona, his internal image.” Mozzie waved his hands.

“How is your work?” Steel looked at the scribbles on paper…Peter had commented once that it always looked as though these two made notes that no-one could decipher, and were small enough to be eaten in seconds, if necessary.

“If you can get the paper, we can probably work out something with the ink,” Neal told him. “Better if we can get both. The actual documents are a piece of cake ...um, very easy?...to forge, even without any equipment. Now we are working on background stories and ideas to run past Diana and Jones.”

Steel and Brak looked at each other and Mozzie elucidated, “To suggest to Diana and Jones.”

“Thank you, Sir Mozzie,” Steel grinned at him. “I should go. Your job…other than this project…is to keep all of the others, but most especially Peter, away from the Keep, preferably, but in particular away from the corridor west of your suite. I will install Elizabeth there. Ophera and a few helpers know about the trick and have made sure the suite is pretty and will make sure that Elizabeth is bathed and dressed when Peter comes to her rooms.”

“That is the snag…that is going to be the difficult part,” Neal told him. “ Peter is as stubborn as a …well, he’s more stubborn than you can possibly imagine. And he’s devoted to Elizabeth, so…”

“I shall have to pull rank on him,” Steel nodded, “and pretend to be the evil Slave Lord that you all imagined I was. After all, till this moment I might have been fooling all of you…Peter thinks that is a possibility, no?”

“Yes, he does,” Neal grinned. “I hope I haven’t convinced him otherwise.”

“It is fortunate that Peter, and Elizabeth, are both under stress and have had to deal with a great deal of change in a short time,” June said. “Neither will be as clear-headed as otherwise.”

“Oh, and we are all going to be very sneaky and quiet and undetected,” Neal told Steel, “but you are not going to be able to keep us away from this discussion between yourself and Peter…you wouldn’t try, would you?”

Steel made a face at him. “From what the others have said, you are very adept at sneaking around and remaining unseen. Because of their various careers, I assume the others, likewise. But do not mess this prank up for me, or dreadful consequences will overcome all of you!”

“That’s the type of Evil Alien Overloard you need to be this evening with the Suit,” Mozzie approved. “But moreso.”

Steel and Brak went out.

A few minutes later, Lucilla, Ophera and three of the girls burst in, carrying something swathed in white cloth. Between them, they held it and opened it and Lucilla held it up for Neal, June and Mozzie to see.

“Oh, ladies, you have outdone yourselves!” Neal said, rising. “If Peter wasn’t in love with Elizabeth before, he would be after seeing her in this!”

“The colour, the sizing?” Lucilla demanded.

“The colour is perfect for Elizabeth,” Mozzie agreed when Neal nodded vigorously. “ That deep, bright blue and her eyes…!”

“And the size should be right,” Neal said. “You have been careful not to make it too fitted…she might have lost a lot of weight, I don’t know, but it will hang in nice folds even if she has. It is a beautiful dress. What fabric! And the silver detailing around the bodice, when did you have time?”

“Thank you for your help, Mozzie and Neal,” Ophera told them. “I am so glad you have the ability to …to…”

“Judge sizing and colours and styles? We’ve done it for one another…and others, now and then.” The two criminals glanced at each other, uniforms and tuxedos and disguises of all sorts – and the cons they’d supported - skimming through their minds and lighting fires in their eyes. There was nothing like it in the so-called real world!

“We will put it in the room Lord Steel has asked us to prepare. We have scented the sheets and put flowers there…”

“The only problem is Peter,” Neal mused. “He could ruin everything.”

“Lord Steel will overcome any snag,” the very blonde girl, Pila, said, obviously rather smitten with her tall lord.

“Oh, new clothing for you in rooms, try please?” Lucilla said.

“Oh, thank you, Lucilla, you didn’t need to do that, we are quite comfortable in what we have,” Neal said, taking her hand. She startled him a little by being overcome with shyness, mumbled more than usual and left rather quickly, followed by the rest of the women, all wanting to make sure that they had done everything the young Lord could expect, and more.

The two settled down again. Then Neal said, “The ear-bugs translate Lucilla’s speech to us from Steel’s language – the name of which I have never bothered to ask – with exactly the same accent and hesitations as she uses in Standard. That’s odd.”

“Yes…and another thing…”

But just then Neal interrupted him with a brilliant idea about Diana and Jones, and the matter was dropped.

It wasn’t that long afterwards that Neal and Mozzie heard the dogs start barking, and soon afterwards Brak joined them.

“We got Elizabeth,” Brak whispered. “She is so beautiful! I can see why Peter is bereft!”

“And her looks are the least of her beauty, Alien 2.I.C.,” Mozzie informed him.

Within a few minutes, Lord Steel came in. “Peter?” he hissed, eyes sparkling.

“None of the horse-riding contingent has so far appeared,” Neal told him.

“Good. Then we should be safe! I have left Elizabeth with Ophera, Pila and Whim. They are going to bathe her and dress her and leave her to sleep a bit. Whim, who is very young, will probably stay with her until I call her out and shove Peter, if necessary by force, into the room. It is sad, she looks miserable, but she is strong and quite beautiful.”

“What did she think about being sold?” Neal asked. It was hard for the two of them to stay away…they both loved Elizabeth and hated the thought that she was going to be worried and lonely for even another hour or two.

“Well, it is never nice, feeling that your owner is displeased enough with you to sell you,” Steel remarked. “Especially as she has been well-treated there.

.......“She is very apprehensive. I would have sent Ophera or Lucilla, but if there was any problem it would have delayed everything. I could be sure only that Tremalshal’s slaves would hand her over to me, they know me and our relationship. Hopefully, they told Elizabeth that I am no monster.

......“It was very hard for me to act the part when I saw that she was scared. Hiding it bravely, but in despair. I don’t think she knows that any of you are here. I thought you had spoken to her, Mozzie.”

“I didn’t have a chance, OverLord Alien,” Mozzie told him. “I didn’t have any resources to bribe soldiers, she was always with one or more female slaves. I daren’t risk being caught. I needed a plan to get her free. She wasn’t being badly treated, she was better off than I was, at least she was fed and well-clothed.”

“I wanted so to squeeze her hand, smile at her or wink at her, is that what you call it? However, I decided that she might interpret any such display as a reason for greater fear, feeling I was buying her for myself, as a …” He hesitated.

“Toy, concubine, sex-slave?” Neal suggested. “I’m glad you didn’t try any of those things!”

“Definitely creepy, man, Number One Alien,” Mozzie told him.

“Then I am then glad I just introduced myself and Brak and handed her into the carriage and said nothing all the way here…which certainly felt – creepy? – to me! Eventually, when I handed her over to Ophera and the others, she turned to me and asked, very timidly, why she had been sold. I told her it was no fault or flaw in her self or her work, but that I wanted very much to have her here. Then she asked, of course, for what purpose I had bought her. I faltered, which was quite the wrong thing to do, and then told her I would explain later, but that it was going to be all right.”

“Then you left her with women who will bathe her, fix her hair and dress her in a beautiful dress. Poor Elizabeth! She will definitely think you have licentious plans for her.” Neal wanted so much to go to her! But it would only be a little while and she would be so happy and thrilled to be with Peter! How surprised they were both going to be!

Steel looked an inquiry and Mozzie waved his hand. “Licentious: nasty, immoral, sexual in a bad way.”

“Oh, poor lady!” Steel said. “Perhaps I should just go and tell her about Peter, it will still be a joke on **_Peter!”_**

“Ophera and the others will tell her you are not like that, Lord Steel,” June told him.

“She may think that all my slaves are under my spell!” Steel said, only half convinced he shouldn’t go and explain.

“And we ourselves actually have no knowledge of our own about how you are with women,” Mozzie commented.

Steel just made a face at him, and then they heard the others coming in. The first thing they all did was to go back to their suites to wash or shower in the case of the riders.

Neal had forgotten that there were new clothes for them…this alien-planet-capture thing was changing him, that was for sure!...and he drew in a breath at the new suits and pullovers and things laid out on the beds.

Lucilla had chosen deep, brooding colours for Peter’s three suits: a rich colour somewhere between burgundy and maroon with self stripes down the fabric which formed perfect chevrons into the darts down his back, a navy with a thread of silver worked round the neck that would complement his slave-collar, and a deep bottle green with some embroidery around the shoulders: autumn-colour leaves and seeds somewhat like acorns. There were new pullovers to go with them, some an exact match, some a few shades lighter, two black and some good soft dark grey trousers for ordinary wear.

Jones was surprisingly delighted with his: one was black, with a slight sheen and deep rich red poppy-like flowers down the front. He also had a grey, but this was gull-grey with designs in greys, black and salmon across the shoulders, and lastly a forest green with twisted art nouveau designs of reeds and creeping plants with yellow and white flowers.

Neal couldn’t wait to get his hands on his! The suits were a rich cobalt that deepened his eyes, with various blues embroidered in stylized waves around collar and cuffs; a light, silver-grey with black, white and grey embroidery in a sort of art-deco design across the shoulders and a red-wine colour with a gorgeous design of what looked like birds of paradise in lighter shades all the way through to white on the back, front and each sleeve. Each had a style that was just a little more exaggerated and dramatic than Peter’s. Again, there were lots of soft pullovers and pants in colours that would go with them.

"This is great!” Jones said, trying on one jacket after another.

“Way too theatrical for me,” Peter humphed. “Almost feminine. Don’t like them.”

“Oh, Peeter, don’t be so stuck-in-the-mud!” Neal demanded, shrugging on the paradise-birds and peacocking in front of the mirror.

“Exactly!” Jones told him. “Boss, we aren’t ever going to get to wear something like this back home, let’s enjoy this while we can! Hand-made, hand-embroidered suits, fit like a glove, comfortable, just beautiful! Aren’t you just a little sick and tired of black and white and black and white and black and white – and sometimes grey?”

“Neal can get away with them, and actually, Clinton, you look very good, too. But you know me…I just…”

“Have no taste other than in your mouth and that’s questionable when I look in your fridge and wine – well it isn’t a cellar…what is that? a drawer?” Neal sneered a little.

Peter frowned. “Not really any of your business, Caffrey.”

“Definitely not my business!” Neal responded, immediately. “My business is to live as well as possible and help educate those that wish to do the same.”

“Don’t know that I’d call what you do for your luxuries a business,” Peter sneered in turn.

“I work hard — very hard and very long hours, often, and take personal risks — to get what I want,” Neal told him. “Just as you do, but I do have higher aspirations. I do not get something for nothing, though you hide-bound types might think we do, might like-to-think we do.”

“I would like to know how many hours you put in, Caffrey, to get …yes, allegedly…the Raphael, and how many hours I would have to put in to buy the same Raphael,” Peter said, getting ready to go and shower.

“Well,” butted in Mozzie, “ if you choose your job for low pay-per-hour and get job satisfaction out of throwing people behind bars, Suit, and then choose to willingly – oh not-so-willingly, is it? — give up a large proportion to Uncle Sam to pay off interest on an unnecessary government debt, and other at-source thefts, you can hardly blame us for your poor choices.”

Peter huffed angrily. “You may sell your crap to Steel, don’t expect me to buy it!”

“Don’t have any disposable income after all those deductions, can’t buy much!” Mozzie waved his hands.

Neal shook his head at Peter and said, “If I didn’t know some physics, I’d think you managed somehow to jettison your sense of humour somewhere between gravity wells in a galaxy far, far away. Chill out, Peter!”

Peter said, coldly, “Grow up, Caffrey,” and went into the bathroom.

Jones shrugged off the last jacket. “Gosh, Neal, you haven’t been 'Caffrey' so often for years! He really is in a bad mood a lot of the time. Might as well enjoy the good things here, don’t you think? But you both should cut him some slack, he’s having a hard time with all of this…too much change too soon, I think.”

“We’ve all left people behind, Clinton,” Neal said, softly. “Your mom is very special to you, I know.”

“That’s true, and I have a new girlfriend, very pretty and sweet-natured, could go somewhere if it gets a chance, and I could hang around and let it fester, but there is literally nothing I can do,” Jones shrugged. “So I might as well say a prayer, leave it to the Good Lord, and try and learn and enjoy as much as I can here, and hopefully, we’ll get to go home sometime.”

Neal and Mozzie didn’t need to shower then, and so were ready to go through when Peter came out of the shower and dressed in his old clothes, putting his new suits and things away in the cupboards.

“Let’s go and help,” Neal said. “We’ll change and add our jackets just before dinner.”

“I’m not wearing those costumes,” Peter muttered.

Mozzie just looked volumes at Neal, but Neal raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

…..“Look, you actually look fantastic in their idea of suits, and these new ones, fitted perfectly, will be a knock-out. But even if you don’t like them, Lucilla and her team have put in many tens of hours on these, even you can see that! They are works of art, not mere body-coverings, and it would be insulting in the extreme to just never wear them. I’m ashamed of you, Peter, you are acting like a spoilt, disagreeable child.” Mozzie waggled his head to show that he agreed entirely, and they left.

Peter stood, feeling a little as though he’d been sent to his room, hurt and miserable. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t fit in here and they did! Their principles-for-hire worked well with Steel’s apparent ability to go off the reservation now and then. Neal – and Mozzie — had been the odd-men-out in his world. All the Bureau, all his team were law-abiding, normal people. Here, since Jones and Diana had been forced to break these unreasonable laws, he seemed the only one who thought that laws were still a good thing.

He had seldom questioned laws and statutes, let alone the whole justice system. He wasn’t good at it. He liked to know exactly where he stood and not have to think about every little detail and examine every angle.

..… _Oh, hell!_ he thought, _I’m probably just lazy, but I like leaving things like that to other people! That’s what the other people are supposed to be for!_

He shrugged and made his way to the kitchen, though he’d rather have stayed in his room. 

        _And sulked!_ he felt compelled to add, a little ashamed of himself.

All the Earthlings helped with some tasks around the Keep…food preparation, cleaning, all the domestic chores that seemed familiar and somehow settling. Neal, Mozzie and Steel were a little concerned that one of the group would not be able to keep up the charade but truly, a better group of Earthlings for keeping secrets could seldom have been assembled!

Peter came a few minutes later than the others, which gave Steel a chance to tell them that Ophera and the others had indeed explained a little to Elizabeth: that Steel had bought her and wanted her to be happy and that there were no plans to force her to have sexual relations with anyone, that it did not happen in Steel Keep, no matter how other slave masters behaved.

"She is probably a little worried and sad - she is a new slave and has just been sold and is with more strangers, still trying to find out how this society works, but they left her with Whim, who is a sweet, friendly child and Ophera said that they seemed to become acquainted very easily," Steel hissed. Then, "Oh, here's Peter. Shh!"

When Peter was helping, he pulled himself up and told the members of the group who had not been riding how these horses differed from the Earth horses he’d ridden as a boy.

While they worked, and the children’s food was laid out, the children ran around, helped and talked loudly to each other. Except Junoel, who sat as close to Neal as possible, saying nothing, just watching him. Neal leaned out casually and ruffled his hair and smiled, and Junoel smiled back, almost as brilliantly as Neal could!

Peter was saying, “They are like a cross between horses and big cats! Their backs are much more flexible than our horses, so their gaits are different. They also don’t have hoofs, but sort of paws. But they are wonderfully well trained and a joy to ride. You must go out tomorrow if there’s time.”

“I will,” Neal told him. “I want to practise in the arm’s hall a bit this evening.”

“I’ll join you!” Peter smiled, making a real effort.

“Oh, no, Peter, I have a special assignment for you this evening after supper,” Steel told him.

“What is it, my Lord?” Peter asked.

Steel glanced around, and apparently thought better of telling him in front of the ladies, especially June, and said, “I’ll explain it all after supper in my study.”

Peter nodded and Neal said, “Moz and I have seen the paperwork, and as long as Lord Steel can get the right paper, or even the correct forms, the rest is probably the easiest forgery ever other than a note for school from parents! I just have to imitate the writing of one of the officials. We have his writing on other forms.”

“But one thing, Boss Alien,” Mozzie queried, “ the weakness is the fact that that official might remember that he did not make out those forms. And worse, the Slavers probably keep records. How do we get to those and alter them?”

“The official should have no reason to be questioned. No – no-one should think to question him if the paperwork looks correct. There is always the problem of challenging a lord’s word, you see. Even other lords who are antagonistic to me do not want the power of any lord lessened, as it lessens theirs. They would destroy me, if they could, but not risk their own positions.

.......“As to the Slavers, I have a plan for that,” Steel went on. “I will be going to see them evening after next, and hopefully they will be prepared to tell us, for a sum of money, where your star is, and even, perhaps, take you back. They will probably be easily bribed to change their records. ”

The Earthlings perked up, looking back and forth at each other.

“More money,” Neal told Steel. “You should let me make you some!”

“Only if the situation becomes desperate!” Steel hissed at him, pretending to keep secrets from Peter. Peter smiled a little.

 

They all went back to their rooms and changed into their new suits for the meal. Peter appeared, rather shame-faced, in his green suit and said, “You were right, you two. I owe it to Lucilla to show her that her work is good, even if it isn’t to my taste.”

Neal slapped his shoulder and Jones said, “You’re just still jumpy about Elizabeth, Peter. But I’m sure in my heart that she’s fine. Maybe worried, of course, but fine…and that you’ll get back together."

Neal told him, “You are an idiot! Do you know how much that colour and style suit you? Just because we are free to wear more …exotic clothing here, doesn’t mean it’s effeminate or unflattering. Remember Francis Drake’s time,…and the Regency. Men have worn extremely colourful and rich clothes in times past, on Earth. I hope they let us take these home…I would love Elizabeth to see you in that, or the other two. And no, you wouldn’t have to wear them on the street, just at home. It’s a pity that men are stuck with suits, dark, rather uniform suits, back home. If we do get back – when we get back! - We should all wear them to work and strike a blow for male equality!”

“No, no, I think the Bureau is not ready for that!” Jones grinned. “But at home would be fun, now and then, or between those of us who got to experience this.”

“Or fancy-dress come-as-your-favourite-alien parties!” Peter grinned back, feeling better.

Mozzie, still wearing hand-me-downs, smiled around, happy to be with his friends again and not trying to survive on streets that were cold and less-friendly to out-of-towners (or from further away yet) with no contacts and no money.

They met June and Diana in the corridor and the four men stopped in surprise. June was regal and lovely in a beautifully cut soft dress in sherry-red embroidered with wandering gold lines over the bodice and deep, tight cuffs. Diana had never looked more stunning than in the ruby pant-suit with tight, fitting jacket that closed to her throat and trousers that flared gently from the hip. Silver never-ending knots twisted their way down each sleeve and down the outer seam of each leg.

“Oh, my!” Neal said, making ‘twirl’ signs with his hands. The ladies laughed and complied, and they all said something at the same time.

“And you three, with your new duds?” Diana turned it on the men. “Neal, you can carry anything off, and I’ve seen you in dress-up before, but Boss! And Jones! Those are truly stunning outfits! I wonder if they’ll let us take them home?”

 

After dinner, at which all the Earthlings made a point of thanking Lucilla and all of her team of magnificent seamstresses and tailors, and received in turn many compliments on their attire, Steel led Peter into his study where, to Peter’s surprise, a small group of soldiers were already gathered, Joster, Brak and Leran amongst them.

Steel carelessly buckled on his sword-belt.

“I have a particular duty for you, Peter.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Peter nodded, wondering what the secrecy was all about.

Brak watched as Steel hitched his hip onto the desk and went on. Steel may be young, he may look and act straightforward and even simple, but his life-choices had forced him to become quite accomplished at what Mozzie had told him was called ‘conning’ other people.

“You are just the sort of man I want in my army, particularly my personal guard.

.......“No, no, I know you want to go home, and I am not reneging on my promise to do my best to get you home. You have all been helpful and I would not treat such people so. However, I would very much like to have your genes in my slave-pool. I know the offspring would not be battle-ready for (a long time)”

..…Peter’s ear-bug had no way of converting the period

....…"but it is important, when running a project such as this to be forward thinking.”

Peter looked at him, not understanding. Elizabeth, had she been watching all along, would have laughed at her husband’s naivety. “Yes?” Peter asked, hoping for enlightenment.

“I have a obtained a truly lovely young woman…beautiful, strong, from a very good line: good brains, good health. I believe a product of your union would be a magnificent specimen.”

He, Neal and Mozzie had thought out some of the wording, so that at least there was not that confusion!

Peter’s eyes went blank. “You want me to...you want me to…”

“I want you to have a child with this woman.” What Steel wanted at that moment…and that _**very badly**_ …was to laugh. He clenched his jaw against it, seeing that Peter was not looking directly at him. Neal had been right, Peter was so prudish that this idea was totally alien – ! – to him.

“But I don’t know her! And I’m married. Bonded. By blood-covenant! Till death!” Peter tried, desperately.

“Oh, I know. But you can get to know her a little, can you not? I do not expect results immediately if you choose to take your time with her…I just thought it would suit your morals better to do it as a duty, and not develop a relationship.” Steel shrugged. “I did not understand. It is of no consequence.”

“But I have a relationship!” Peter told him. “I love Elizabeth, she loves me! I wouldn’t think of doing this horrible thing…why, it would be like raping the girl.”

“Be not stupid, Peter!” Steel told him. “You are a very handsome and intelligent man. Are you telling me that you would find it impossible to make her more amenable to you? To…”

“Seduce her, you mean!” Peter was steaming.

“If that is what it is called, yes,” Steel told him. “Make her want you, make her happy, give her a lovely baby.”

“I won’t do it. It’s wrong! What would I tell El?”

“If you get home…if I manage to find a way I can afford to get you home…do you think you would have to tell Elizabeth? If I can not, of course, the problem does not arise.”

“Yes, it arises!” Peter exclaimed. “I always tell El everything, she can see right through me if I don’t, and – and – just because I _**never**_ get home doesn’t mean I should be unfaithful to her!”

“Ah,” Steel said, and glanced at his men. “It seems you have not planned your marriage well, that she must needs know everything of you. How foolish and weak, Peter.”

Brak tut-tutted and Peter turned on him. “If you are so content with this, you go in and seduce the poor girl, you horrible man!”

Steel bit the inside of his cheek.

“I do not need Brak’s genes, Peter,” Steel managed, composedly. “His family-clan is large and well-represented at Steel Keep. And I am sorry to push this at you with little time, but I am hoping to be able to get some idea of getting you home very soon. If you were to stay here, then there is more time to produce beautiful offspring with several mother-slaves. As it is…”

“How do you know the baby will be a boy?” Peter demanded. “If it’s a girl…”

“We would have the genes, but I would prefer a boy. And the herbalists amongst our healers have developed special mixtures that make a boy-child a …how would you say this? …good chance? High chance? The girl is ready and the herbs have been given to her.

.......“You know, Peter, this girl, this woman is truly beautiful, what does Jones call it? – sexy? I could find a thousand men right now that would do this willingly, perhaps even against my orders.”

“Then go and find them. I won’t do it!” Peter crossed his arms and glared.

“Peter, you have no choice.” Steel’s voice deepened, but he did not stand. He sat at ease, showing his power over Peter more clearly than if he had used aggressive body-language. He shook his head. “I have asked very little of you and your team, you know. I have been patient with your weaknesses and taken in your murderers at personal risk. I have been prepared to lose your purchase price, all the money spent on you, and pay for you to go home if I can find a way and can afford it. And you have objected strongly to Neal doing anything to help financially, even though he is very willing.

.......“So, I have been extremely patient with you all and good to you. But I am not weak and stupid as you seem to think. Yet you will not do this one, small favour for me? You have been stubborn and obstructive at almost every juncture!”

“But it _ **isn’t**_ …let Neal do it! Or Jones!”

“Not Jones. Not yet. I know he and Diana look in perfect health, but from studies the herbalists do, it seems that it takes the …seed? …a little time to become as strong as before. I do not want to risk wasting this opportunity.

......“And I am perfectly sure Neal could seduce anyone in the Keep, should he choose, and I think he would not be at all unwilling to pay me back a little of my investment in all of you. However, though I might like his seed - and Jones’, a little later - in my Keep, I would not want him bred to this particular female. I do not think you would, either…you know horses, you know I breed horses. You do not breed a light, fast filly to produce a war-horse, do you? Do you think I am more concerned with my horses, or my slaves?”

Peter looked defeated. He said, “But we’re _**people, human!**_ I am sorry, Lord Steel, I cannot help you.” Why couldn’t this have been asked of Neal? Neal could seduce anyone, and though he had extremely few bed-partners through his life and seemed ridiculously celibate for one so young and handsome, he would have taken it in his stride as part of a con, been sweet and gentle with the girl and, without saying so, left her with the idea that, had it been his choice, he would have stayed by her side, but his mean boss had forced him to go back to Earth. She would have waved him good-bye with misty eyes and cradled his probably beautiful baby when it was born.

“Cannot or will not? And let us be clear, I do not have to justify my requests. I am merely being courteous because this is so new to you. I _**own**_ you, Peter.”

“I would say will not, but my heart says cannot.”

Steel looked at this Earthling who seemed to have no idea how slavery worked. Any other slave-master of Steel's acquaintance would have not shown this level of patience. The breeding of slaves for patricular attributes : beauty, strength for gladiators and so on did happen, he knew, though his friends were not involved in that kind of business. They all ran businesses and had slaves to help with the work. They wanted them happy and healthy…though most expected their slaves to show more respect to their Lord, to follow protocol more strictly, than he did. His father certainly had.

Steel was about to speak and Peter looked up at said, “I am sorry, Lord Steel. Ask anything else of me. Not this.

            “I am used to being in charge, in power. I know I am not responding to your orders as a slave would. As a good, useful slave would. I will try, but not this.”

Steel looked right at him and smiled. “Try this, then, Peter – would you go in and speak to this woman, get to know her a little? Perhaps you will feel differently.”

Peter swallowed. “Just talk to her, Lord Steel?”

“Yes,” Steel nodded. “Just talk. Or more if you wish. I would appreciate it if you could bring yourself to develop an affectionate relationship with this woman.”

Peter said, “I can be polite and nice to her…she won’t expect more from me?”

Steel had to cough to hide a sudden urge to laugh. If he had understood the others, Elizabeth was certainly going to expect something more than mere words! Then he said, “I cannot say with any real certainty, I do not know this woman. She may. You will have to explain. But I can leave you to do what you think is…best?”

Peter straightened his shoulders a little. “I can do that, my Lord! There will be no repercussions for me or my team if – if all we do is talk?”

“None. As I said, I would prefer you to be – affectionate towards her. But if you feel strongly that you can not, then there is nothing more to be said.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” Peter said.

“Good. We will take you to the young female slave now, then,” Steel said.

Peter and Steel, followed by the soldiers, marched down the corridor and Steel opened a door to a suite and softly called Whim’s name. There was a pause, and Whim came to the door, smiling at her Lord, who frowned at her. Her childish, rounded face straightened, though she looked with curiosity at Peter, who flushed scarlet with shame. “She is ready, my Lord,” Whim said. “

Good, Whim. Scamper off home now. Thank you.”

“Pleasure, my Lord,” Whim said, and skipped away.

“Go on, I will see you in the morning, or at your pleasure,” Steel said to Peter, who straightened his shoulders as though he was going to the gallows, and walked in.

Steel locked the door after him, and all the rest of ‘Peter’s team’, who had been listening to all behind the curves of the walls of the corridors, speedily gathered with the soldiers and waited, listening intently. There was a horribly long, tense silence and suddenly a loud and excited squeal of,

 

................................. ** _.“PETER!”_**

 

muffled by the thick wood and stone.

The group in the corridor outside clutched each other in delight, grinning from ear to ear.

“Come on, everyone,” Steel commanded, softly unlocking the door. “These doors and walls are deep, but I think it would be more…”

“…courteous…” June supplied.

“More courteous, then,” Steel half-bowed to her, “to move off and give them their privacy.”

“Spoil-sport!” Neal hissed.

“You would not mind us standing here?” Steel grinned, starting to walk away.

“Not particularly…you might learn something! And, to be honest, Lord Steel, those two could lose themselves in each other’s eyes across a large crowded party on Earth when they’d seen each other two hours before. I do not think they will give us another thought!”

 

 

End of Chapter 5

 

 


	6. High Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winds pick up and the Keep needs all hands to do the work. Peter and El appear and a discussion is started about how to disguise Diana and Jones in case the authorities start a search.

 

 

“Oh, that was a lovely trick!” June said, sinking down in the Greatroom.

           The soldiers sort of saluted Steel and went off, grinning.

           “Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t going to be easy to convince him, my Lord?” Neal demanded of Steel. “And you really chickened out at the end there, my Lord!”

“Chicken - ?” Steel queried, puzzled.

“You let him off the hook…oh, help! Um…” Neal frowned a little.

“You gave him an easy option, my Lord,” Diana explained. “Saying he could just go and talk.”

“He has no idea how slavery works. It was just going to become a struggle of wills,” Steel said. “I could force him, of course, but that’s not what I wanted. There are times, when it is necessary to maintain discipline or clarify who is in charge, but this situation is not one about which I wish to resort to such tactics. Though I hope he can become more amenable, especially if I can not find a way to get you home. Right now he just wants to be with his wife, and we want to give her to him And I was swayed by his genuine emotion!

            “But, Neal, as you said, he is unusually stubborn, considering the power I have over him.”

 “An honorable man, indeed,” Brak nodded.

“Truly,” Steel nodded “If he had seen her and she was hideous from some terrible, infectious disease, or if she truly smelled dreadfully…”

           “Or if he was gay!” Diana added. This lead to a short detour discussion about the confusion between homosexuality and joyfulness on the part of the ear-bugs, but when Steel understood he said, “I would have thought he would at least have asked to see her first, under the circumstances!”

           “And he was quite happy about throwing Neal or me under the bus!” Jones chuckled, thinking over the conversation.

            “That was one of the problems we foresaw,” Steel told him. “Neal, Mozzie and I sat working out excuses he would think of, and he thought of them all! There was no reason I couldn’t use Neal or you as the …”

           “…stud!” Diana chortled.

           “Donor?” Mozzie tried.

            “…so I had to say that Neal was too light-built for this breeding, I obviously want a large, heavily muscled soldier – and to lie and say that your seed would take some time to recover from your trials, even after Lira had sung for you! I have no idea if that is true. It probably is not.”

           “So, Jones, you can’t play the field without consequences!” teased Neal. "Though I can't see you being irresponsible."

            “Thanks, Neal!” Jones said. “I have no such intention at present. And you’re right, there are quite enough derelict dads back on planet Earth. I’m not going to be one here!”

           “Why didn’t he suggest Mozzie?” June asked.

           “You cannot have taken thought, Mistress June,” Steel said. “Sir Mozzie is even more recently being healed from his terrible ordeal. He came here of his own free will and is not my slave. And surely there is no-one who would coerce Sir Mozzie!”

            “You tell them, Alien Lord!” Mozzie nodded. Jones, Diana and Neal shook their heads at each other.

           They sat around, smiling at their thoughts, and how truly happy Peter and Elizabeth were going to be, now.

           “Oh, my Lord Steel?” June said, after a little while. “There is yet one extraordinarily great danger in which you stand, and I fear you seem unaware of it….”

           “Yes, Mistress June, what is it?”

           “I don’t think any of us should let Elizabeth know that you likened her to a mare fit not for a fleet-of-foot racer but for a war-horse!”

 

 The next morning, Peter and El were not at the breakfast table. Mozzie had chosen some wines for their tryst-suite, and Neal had worked with Ophera for there to be fruit and honey and pancake ingredients and other easy-to-make breakfasts that they liked, as well as lovely rich breads, butter and various savoury and sweet fillings to go with them. They had everything they needed to stay in happy solitude for a week!

 

Steel came in as they finished eating, his hair in disarray and said to the room, “We have a problem. There is a high wind, we have to get some crops in, and we have had to disengage the wind-mills so we need to move water and crops without that motorised help…every able-bodied person not engaged in vital tasks is out in the fields. So Mistress June and Sir Mozzie, stay, help out here if you can, but Neal, Peter, Diana and Jones, can you…oh, Peter. Well, I think we can manage without Peter today! Let us go! Put on your warm weather gear, grab some gloves and meet me as soon as you may in the stableyard. Oh, and remember your slave-collars, just in case! We will be outside, even though on Steel lands.”

 They ran back to their rooms and dragged on their original, not quite as nice clothing, the thick boots and cloaks, and their thickest hats. They clicked on each others’ collars. There were many gloves in chests by the doors of the stable-yard, and they each dug out a pair that fitted, and met a bunch of people milling about and climbing on horse-drawn wagons in the yard. Soon they were all riding along, out of the stables and on the cobbled road into the fields. They could see the tall, graceful windmills, a little like those used in dry lands on Earth, but these had their vanes furled, and still the wind was vigorously tugging at them, and the whole structure was swaying.

 

As soon as they left the lee of the Keep, the nasty, cool and strong wind buffeted them. Jones tugged at his gloves, Diana settled her hats…she had two, one inside the other…as snugly onto her head as possible.

            “I hate wind. Somehow, one can fight any other weather extreme, though heat is also horrible,” Jones said, loudly. “But the wind finds every crack and gets in.”

            “Ever been in a South African dust-storm?” Neal asked over the whine of the wind. “Or a swarm of locusts?”

            “No, and I doubt you have, either!” Diana shouted at him, holding her hats.

            “You doubt me for nothing…the dust gets in everywhere, and so do the locusts…and the latter are worse if you are driving, at first they are like a black cloud and darken the sky so it’s hard to see, then they just fill your vision, like a blizzard…like locust-out! …then they squish and are greasy and the road is like an oil-slick and there is nothing you can do about the squashed grease on the windows…worst car-crash of my life! And afterwards, I swear to you, there were locusts in our shoes and clothing – and everywhere in the car. They’d flown in through the windows when they broke!”

             “Alive?” Diana said, in horror.

            “No, dead. Well, the ones I found were. Lovely country, beautiful beaches, best in the world, I thought, but avoid the desert! Actually, the locusts, singly, were quite beautiful, too…in a kind of alien way!...multicoloured wings.”

 It was too difficult to yell at each other, and they mostly stayed quiet till they got to the lands. They stopped and saw that there were what looked like conveyor-belts, usually used for this work, now standing idle.

 

Brak arrived, well-dressed for the weather in slightly tatty clothing. He climbed on the wagon and yelled in his gruff and deep voice, “We need those containers filled with water, and put on the wagons to go to stables and cow-barns. We need the marked lines of crops brought in and placed on the other wagon. Unless you find you like one or the other a _lot_ , swop around, you’ll get less tired. But it all has to be done by night-fall.”

 He climbed down and almost ran after the one driver, and a man younger than Neal shouted into his friend’s ear, “Same speech every time this sort of thing happens!”

            “Some of us are new to this!” Neal yelled at both of them, and they grinned.

             “He is very predictable!” the one said, loudly. “I am Dran, by the way, and this is Torkin.”

            “Neal!” He pointed at his chest.

            “Funny name!”

            “I’ve got others…”

            “Glad to meet you. Let us get on with this.”

 

They started the work. It wouldn’t have been undemanding even without the wind. Diana found that it could quite easily shove her if she wasn’t behind something or someone, or carrying something heavy, and Neal wasn’t in much better shape, though both of them were muscularly dense. The very noise was tiring, even through their thick hats!

 The water was winched from deep wells and poured using sort of scoops into the containers, a little always slopping out usually, thought Neal resentfully, into his boots. The heavy water containers needed to be carried to the wagon over dirt and grass and then lifted onto the wagon. Shorter people could hardly lift the things that high, so Jones and Steel stationed themselves there and did that part of the job. The Earthlings were a little surprised to see Steel, working as hard or harder than any other, but his slaves took it in stride, so it obviously wasn’t unusual.

 When the wagon was full the driver clicked and the patient and very large horses…just like draft horses back home…clumped off towards the barns and another wagon and team pulled in to take its place.

            “How much do your cows and horses drink?” demanded Neal of Steel, getting tired.

            “You do not want to know! Just be thankful the humans are taken care of!” Steel yelled back.

 After they got really tired, they left the water-hauling to others and went to work on the vegetables. There was still the problem of conveying totes to the wagon and packing them on, but the work was lighter, except it was all about bending and straightening, and that soon got very tiring, too!

 Two young women rode out with pack-horses and food for everyone at midday. It was a welcome rest, but everyone just ate as quickly as possible, wanting to get the job over and get out of the cold, strengthening wind.

 Everyone there was dirty, damp, cold and exhausted by the time the job was done and the last wagons hauled their tired bones back to the Keep or the living quarters in the fields near the barns. As the wagons drew apart, the occupants waved wearily in victory at each other.

 Diana was so tired that she lay back against Neal and Jones, to their surprise, but they carefully shifted so she was comfortable.

            “Thank you, fella's,” she mumbled. “And if we ever get back and you tell anyone, I will hurt you.”

 They grinned at each other over her hats, stray bits of grubby hair escaping. She was asleep, despite all the jolting. Jones put his arm round her to make sure she didn’t slip. Eventually they drove into the stable yard.

 

They climbed off the wagons, groaning a little.

            “Well done, everyone, that was excellent!” Steel said.

 Neal gave him a look that was filthy even without the overlay of rich, reddish loam. “Your stupid cattle - my Lord! - should learn to climb down the rope and drink from the well, like ours do back home!” he told Steel, shaking his head, feeling as though the wind was still whistling through it.

 Steel looked at him with such astonishment at the picture this painted that Jones managed to laugh. Then Steel grinned and backhanded Neal’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “Go! Go and bathe and rest a bit! Ophera and the others will have a great feast for us in about a while. But I might not let you know about it, Neal! I shall let you sleep. Climbing cows!”

 He went off with some of his protection detail, as Jones thought of the soldiers that were closest to Steel.

            “Come on, Diana, let’s get home,” Jones said, and he and Neal each put their arm around her and almost carried her to their suites, and she smiled at them and staggered into hers, while Jones and Neal just made it to theirs.

             “There’s tea warm here,” Neal told Jones, pouring some for them both. “Now, who’s first? Toss a coin?”

 Jones grinned at Neal, who’s usually neat hair looked like a mop that had been in an unfortunate collision with a perm and a live electric cable. “Firstly, we don’t have a coin, and if you did, it’d probably be a two-headed coin, or you’d fake it! Rock, paper, scissors!”

 Jones put out a rock, Neal put out paper.

             “Best of three, I meant,” Jones said.

 Jones put out scissors, Neal put out a rock.

 Jones put out scissors, again, and Neal put out a rock, again.

            “I don’t believe it! How can you always win at any game of so-called chance!” Jones groaned.

 Neal just laughed. “Go on, Jones, you go first. I want to wander down and see if Peter and El are still cloistered…probably a bad word-choice, there.”

            “But you won!” Jones argued.

             “I cheated. Go on, just don’t take too long!”

 Jones didn’t complain further but grabbed a towel and went. He didn’t know any way Neal could cheat at rock-paper-scissors, but if anyone could, Neal was the one!

Neal yanked off his wet, muddy and uncomfortable boots and dried his feet, then walked slowly down the corridor barefoot, but the door of the suite Steel had made ready for Peter and El was still closed, so he wandered back, slowly, stretching his muscles and joints.

 

He was surprised at how happy he felt. Here he wasn’t a criminal, he wasn’t Peter’s pet, ankletted, magic-eight-ball of answers, he wasn’t at Peter’s beck and call – and the Bureau’s. Here he was just Neal, making new friends, something he was good at. His past was gone, wiped out, other than the fact that he could help Steel do good things for good people, sometimes skirting the law. Many of his old friends were here. At least within the Keep, it felt as though everyone was equal, even Steel.

 It didn’t mean he wasn’t fond of Peter and El as he had back on Earth. But Peter couldn’t expect him to yelp, “How high?” every time he wanted him to jump. Here, Steel owned him and valued some of his weird and perhaps questionable skills. Steel didn’t look sideways at him all the time, wondering what he was up to. He didn’t have time: Neal was just one more slave in a whole Keep.

 Mozzie, probably for the first time in his life, was being well looked after and honoured.

 Sometimes Steel would need his forgery skills and sometimes, as today, the Keep would just need a strong back. He felt real.

 There were whole new worlds of art and beauty to explore. There were bad men to vanquish with sword or, preferably, brains. He enjoyed the work-outs with the weapons, especially the sword-dagger combination. It was great exercise and useful, too. He felt free.

 He laughed aloud, fingering the twisted chains around his neck and, as Joster had found, his laugh echoed down the stonework. Peter had been right, Neal seldom really laughed on Earth. He walked back and forth a bit, knowing that if he rested, he’d fall asleep and never get to the shower! While he walked, he wondered: did he really want to go home?

 

When they had all bathed and slept for about an hour, they were wakened and went to the kitchen where they entered into a bedlam of people talking, laughing, dishing out food and trying to find seats.

 Ophera and her helpers, including June, had cooked a large and warming meal: roast beef (?) with some sort of spicy sauce slightly reminiscent of ginger with lots and lots of different roasted vegetables. Then there was a steamed pudding with fruit baked in it and cream, various cheeses and breads of all types…and they ate and ate, laughing and feeling as though it was Thanksgiving, or Christmas. Mozzie and a couple of slaves went round now and then pouring wine and water and fruit juice.

 Steel walked along the tables and thanked the ladies for all their work in making such a lovely meal, and Neal leaned back and asked,

         “My Lord, do we have to repeat that tomorrow?”

         Steel hunkered down on his heels next to Neal’s chair and said, “No. Tomorrow will be all right, if any water needs to be drawn the farm hands will manage, it will not be much work. And those very high winds do not usually last more than a day or two, but if they do then yes, we will have to go out again the next day. Tired?”

             “Yes!” Neal smiled at him. “I haven’t done that kind of work, and the wind is irritating, isn’t it? But of course, we’ll do whatever we need to do to help.”

            “Thank you.” Steel said simply, stood up and walked away.

 Then everyone pitched in to wash and clean up, and then took tea and whatever left-overs they could scavenge, and went back to their rooms. It was only as they fell asleep that Neal thought about Steel’s meeting with the Slavers. He obviously hadn’t gone.

 

As soon as he could catch Steel the next morning, Neal enquired about the meeting.

         “I had to postpone it till tomorrow evening,” Steel told him. “I needed too many people to solve the water problem.”

            “What you need, Number One Alien,” Mozzie said, “ is another design of windmill for high-wind-velocity situations. Does this happen often?”

            “Usually only in the winter,” Steel told him. “And then we use a different system for water collection, using melting snow. And of course there are no vegetables to harvest! It is at most four or five days throughout the rest of the year.”

             “And the Keep?” Neal queried. “ You said it had a different system, for the humans.”

             “Mm-hm. We let rain water wash the roofs, and then collect the rest – or snow-melt in winter. The barns and farm-buildings give enough for all the farm slaves, and also all the animals, the Keep enough for the rest of us. There is a well in the deepest part of the Keep, for emergencies, but we seldom have to use it.

         “Sea Keep is fed by three sweet springs, and never has the problem. We always joke that living there is a holiday…the weather is much nicer, they have sand by the sea for the horses, it has very good natural fortification. Not that there has been an actual Keep-war for a generations!

         “If we fail to get you home, you can do as the rest of the slaves do, and take time there, partly to work but partly to rest, swim in the sea and ride horses over the white sands.”

 Neal looked hard at him, wondering if the Lord would mind if he chose to stay and not go home to Earth. Steel nodded to them and went about his business, but later came to Neal and Mozzie with clean, unused forms for Bills of Sale and Ownership Papers. One elderly friend of Steel’s had even found some ink of the correct shade.

          “Perfect!” Neal said, picking up the stack of forms by the edges. “No-one asked any difficult questions?”

          “They probably guessed something, but they are my friends, I trust them or I would not have asked them.”

          “Nice to have friends like that,” Mozzie said, seriously.

          “Would you like to discuss the options with Diana and Jones, or should we?” Neal asked.

          “Let us get together after lunch for a while,” Steel told them. “I will have finished with the horses and training then, and will like a bit of a rest!”

 Neal, Diana and Jones went and practised their weapons’ skills, and then took a horse each and went for a ride. It wasn’t that much fun, the wind still blew too strongly, and the horses were restless and jumpy, but not so bad as to put any of them off. Even though they weren’t riders on Earth, they were strong and had good balance, and the horses were well trained and would not bolt without a very good reason.

         However, even though the horses needed exercise, they didn’t stay out as long as they had thought to do! They went back and groomed the horses and cleaned out some stalls, only leaving in time to clean up for lunch.

 

  
  
Everyone that normally came to lunch at the Keep had just sat down and started passing round dishes and wine and water, and Peter and Elizabeth appeared, arm in arm, smiling a little shyly. El seemed to also have Peter’s arm firmly for support: she seemed nervous.  
         Immediately the humans leaped up, Steel stood up, too, as did Ophera, as hostess. Neal hurried to El and hugged her and kissed her and she laughed and just looked wonderful, lit up from within! Mozzie went over and stood beaming, his fingers steepled together. Jones and Diana hugged her as well, and Steel went round and, to her surprise, took her hand and said,           

“Dear Elizabeth, I am so sorry for tricking you! I hope you were not scared and worried before we sent Peter in to you!”  
         Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes wet, smiling like a beacon and said, “Nothing you could have done, my Lord, would make me sad or cross when you’ve brought my husband and me together.”

  
            “Whereas I,” Peter said, pulling out a chair for El, “have a huge bone to pick with you…I mean a big problem with you, and a quarrel, Steel! What an awful thing to do to me, to make me think I had to go in with a stranger! After lunch, you and I are having a talk!”

  
          “Ooooh!” Jones, Diana and Neal all said, teasing. Peter couldn’t keep up the charade, though, and his lovely smile broke through as he sat next to Elizabeth and dished up food for her and poured her some wine.

  
          “He is not angry!” Ophera said.

  
          “I’m so happy,” Peter said, “to be with my gorgeous wife, but I still will have a serious talk with the Lord of Steel Keep!”

  
          “He’s the planet champion-warrior, Peter,” Neal reminded him. “Careful!”

  
          Peter grinned across at him and said, “I’ll just needle him until he calls me out, and then I get to choose weapons, and I’m pretty good at unarmed combat! Or I’ll just send in my second, the great Keeper-slayer!” He waved at Diana.

  
           “That might be more funny, Boss, if it wasn’t true!” Diana told him.

  
 There was much laughter and noisy conversation around the table, and afterwards they helped clear up a little, until Steel said, “Sorry, Ophera, I need these troublesome Earthling slaves for a while, can your people manage?”

  
           “Absolutely, you know that, Master Caerrovon!” Ophera told him. “The worst has been done already, anyway.”

  
 They showed Elizabeth the Greatroom, and she bravely went and stood on the couch in front of Steel and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and said, “Lord Steel, I can never really thank you, but if you could know how happy you’ve made me, I hope you would be a little repaid for your efforts and the money you spent.”

  
            Steel put his hands on her shoulders and smiled at her. “My dear Elizabeth,” he said, keeping one amused eye on Peter, “I feel I have seldom, if ever, spent money in a better way than purchasing a truly gorgeous specimen of an Earthling woman: beautiful, sweet and incredibly intelligent if my sources are correct. I am honored to own you!”

  
          Peter’s smile was slipping a little. Steel took pity on him and went on, “However, you are sadly misinformed, dear lady. My part was minuscule compared to the real hero of this tale…” He handed her down off the couch and lead her to where Mozzie was standing, oblivious, twirling a wine glass with a little of his local favourite in the bottom, watching the play of colours and light.                      
           “ ** _This_ ** is the man you should thank. Do you know he saw you being taken and, with no thought to his own safety, he boarded an alien slave-ship and managed to remain undetected all the way on the voyage through space, and also at the off-loading and for some while on our planet with no resources and no help, not knowing a single word of any language spoken here. Then he discovered Neal’s whereabouts, and broke into a Keep that has never been breached before by any amount of military might, and convinced me to come and purchase you, as you were an Earthling in a billion.”

  
 Mozzie’s look of total surprise at the start of this recital angered Steel. When he had finished talking to Elizabeth he said to Mozzie, “Your efforts have seldom been adequately recognised, is it not so?”

  
           “Actually, Alien Lord, I usually shun the spot-light altogether and assiduously. Acknowledgement is not common in my line of work.”

  
            “Mozzie, I didn’t know. Peter only told me bits and pieces….” El coloured a little and Neal, Jones and Diana made rather rude noises and said, “I bet!”

  
            “I can’t imagine how brave you must be, Mozzie!” Elizabeth said, taking his hand and kissing his cheek. “You have always been a good and trustworthy friend, but this was above and beyond!”

  
           Peter was there, then, and put his hand on Mozzie’s shoulder. “I didn’t know your part in this, Moz! These evil beasts! – “ he waved his hand vaguely at Steel, Jones, Diana and Neal,  
“ — kept the whole subject of Elizabeth a secret…and, for that matter, you lied to me about it, too!”

  
           “I never lied, Suit. Though for the record, I feel no pain about lying to you, though I may avoid it in situations involving Mrs Suit or Neal, out of deference to them - be aware that I said I _**may.**_ I told you I had seen her at home the morning of the raid. I did go to see her and told her I was taking June and her family to a remote rural area for the duration of the fighting, and thought she should come, too, there was no purpose she could serve in New York City, and would just be a worry and concern for you and Neal.”

  
           “It’s true,” Elizabeth made a face, “all my weddings and Christenings and Bar mitzvah’s had been cancelled. War is terrible for my business.”

  
           Mozzie continued: “She agreed, but wanted to take her car. I phoned June on the landline, we couldn’t use the cell phones because the satellites had been wiped out, and told her to come in to tell Neal if she chose, that I’d meet her there, but didn’t mention Elizabeth because I didn’t know if you, Suit, would agree to the plan. You know the FBI was not taking any calls other than emergency ones.  
           “We were delayed by a military road block and just arrived at the building when the alien slave ship arrived. We tried to flee, but then I saw Elizabeth being herded into a huge, cigar shaped ship, just like the abductees say, so I had to do something!”

  
            “Lord Steel….should I say **Steel** is right, and I have not valued you and your contribution as I should, but I will never, never, never forget this, Mozzie.”

  
            “Oh, if we get back, and a special something goes missing, and you have no idea at all who did it, and there is no evidence, the security film shows nothing, the computers seem unaffected but give no clues and your tracking data tell you that it wasn’t Neal, you’ll forget it, Suit,” Mozzie said, smiling.

  
           Peter hesitated. “Just don’t shove anything in my face, Haversham!”

  
           Neal asked, tentatively, “Did you…what did you do with Satchmo? I know I shouldn’t be so worried about a dog, when all the people were involved, but…he’s family.”

  
            “I had already given him to my sister,” El told him. “He knows them, and I could have collected him from them when we got wherever Mozzie was taking us. So if they are safe, so is he. She took him up to their rural home, there was no fighting there.”

  
           “That’s a load off my mind. I’ve been worried all along about Satchmo, since I heard you, El, were here.”

  
           Peter left El with Mozzie, straightened his shoulders and advanced upon Steel. “Now, Keeper-Lord Caerrovon Steel, I want to talk to you!”

  
           “Do you, Federal-Bureau-of-Investigations-Special-Agent-but-now-owned-by-Steel-Keep Peter Burke?” Steel said, raising an eyebrow.

  
            “I don’t care who you are and who I am in relation to you, you have a damned cheek doing what you did to me the other evening! That was a terrible thing to do!”

  
            “And the more I get to know you and Neal, the more I comprehend why he finds it so irresistible to tease you, Peter Burke!”

  
           “It is not irresistible! And that wasn’t teasing, it was just plain mean and nasty…to someone like me, anyway. Tease Neal about his dozens and dozens of lovers! Don’t tease me, I’m not like that!”

  
           “But if I had done the same thing to Neal, he would happily have helped me. There would be no teasing at all,” Steel pointed out, mildly. “At least if the woman was as beautiful as your wife…and you did suggest that Neal or Jones help me out…now, Peter, how would you have felt the next morning if I had agreed to that suggestion?”

  
            “They are my friends, they would never have done it when they saw who she was!”

  
           “But you wanted not to do it.”

  
            “I didn’t know it was Elizabeth!”

  
            “Did you allow Neal to obey your orders just when it suited him?”

  
           “Neal never obeys anything or anyone!”

  
           “Oh, Hon, that’s just mean,” El said to him. “He doesn’t always take the same approach you might, but he often gets exactly the results you want.”

  
           “You don’t know how irritating he is at work, in the van…”

  
           “So when you give him an order you would like him to obey you?” Steel enquired.

  
           “Of course!”

  
            “Well, I have to tell you that I find you very contrary, Peter. How can you expect anyone at the…FBI?...to obey you, as their commander, when you refused over and over to obey one single order from me, your lawful owner? That is truly a double-standard as Neal calls it.  
         “And if I had ordered Neal or Jones to do as I asked, on your recommendation, and they had, would you have considered that simple obedience on their part? After all, you could only get them sent away from their jobs if they disobeyed you…I could quite legally have them executed!”

  
           Elizabeth was a little startled by this, and turned to Neal and Mozzie, who were both grinning. “What exactly did Lord Steel tell Peter? He didn’t tell me, he just swore a lot, and then we – um — went on to other things and forgot all about the rest of the world…planet.”

  
           “As I said you would sensibly do,” Neal told her.

  
           “Don’t you dare tell her, Neal! I’ll…I’ll…”

  
           “What will you do, Peter?” smirked Neal, enjoying himself. “Cut my radius? Put me under house arrest? Force me to do mortgage fraud for weeks? Beat me at sword-play?...hmmm, seems you are all out of options.”

  
           Steel looked at Peter and said, “You did initiate this conversation, Peter, in public. Seems a little silly to me, but that was your choice.”

  
           Peter huffed loudly, looked around and saw that everyone was grinning except Steel, who looked mildly amused and sympathetic at the same time. Even Elizabeth, though slightly puzzled, was amused!  
            “Oh, damn it all to hell! I just gave you all a chance to tease me all over again, didn’t I?”

  
           “Yes, you did, Peter,” Steel nodded. “And we may not have even told Elizabeth if you had remained quiet but now we just have to!”

  
           “I insist!” El said. “I might imagine really bad things happened, if you don’t, Peter.”

  
            Peter walked away from Steel and sat down next to El and pulled her down on his knee. “Steel took me into a room with a bunch of mean-looking soldiers, and he put on sword and said he had purchased a lovely young woman, and he ordered me to go to her and seduce her and have a baby with her. We argued back and forth, because I said I wasn’t going to commit adultery, and be unfaithful to you…I was scared he wouldn’t try and get us home! I was scared if I didn’t do it I’d never see you again He was being really mean!”

  
           El said, “Oh, Sweetie, how dear of you. I’m so proud that you would resist even a supposedly beautiful slave woman to be faithful to me.”

  
            “Yes, exactly,” Peter said, putting his head down on her shoulder. Over his head, El mouthed at Neal, “You’ll tell me _everything_ later!” and Neal inclined his head just slightly, grinning.

  
           “And Lord Steel just didn’t know how awful you are at seducing women, especially when you don’t know them, or have Bureau resources to stalk them. You really are awful at it.”

  
           “He is, he is!” Neal put in. “You would never believe how inept the man is at flirting, even when the girls are beautiful and quite drunk!”

  
           “Girls?” El asked, innocently, holding Peter tightly.

  
            “Many girls…it would have helped cases, El! Remember the two French girls in the luxury hotel suite who wanted to play strip poker?”

  
            “Oh, those type of girls. Shame, Sweetie.” She kissed Peter’s head again.

  
            “He actually even pleaded with Steel, said he knew he wasn’t a very good slave…that’s a huge admission for Peter!”

  
           Peter raised his head and frowned. “But I never mentioned… Steel never…you all listened! Didn’t you!” He collected all the nods from the room and glared at Steel. “You let them all listen to me making a fool of myself! _You!”_

  
           “Now do not start accusing me again, Peter!” Steel said. “After all, you say you never learnt to control Neal, why should I have success after such a short time?”

  
            “But, but…”

  
           El took his head in her hands and made him look at her.  
           “Hon, they all – especially Mozzie and Lord Steel, but all of them helped – got us together again, so far from home, I was so lonely without you. I think I would have just wasted away without your love,” El said, smiling into his eyes.

  
           “I’m supposed to thank this crew of…of…” Peter sat and thought a moment, struggling with himself. Then he looked round and said, through his teeth, “Thank you all for getting El for me.”

  
            “It was all sorts of a pleasure, Suit,” Mozzie told him, smiling.

  
           “And, Peter, we are so blessed and fortunate to be owned by a Keeper who not only goes out of his way to make his slaves happy, but can play the fool and joke with them,” Elizabeth went on.

  
           “I suppose,” Peter said, _not_ looking at Steel.

  
            “No sulking, now, Peter!” June and Neal said at the same time, and started to laugh.

  
           Peter looked at Steel and said, “I am really in your debt—“

  
           “More in my debt!” Steel injected, which Peter ignored.

  
            “—and I do thank you sincerely, my Lord.”

  
           “So next time I order you to do something..?”

  
           “If it doesn’t involve being unfaithful to El, or hurting her in any way, or doing something illegal, or - ”

  
           Steel broke in, “I thought I understood from you, Sir Mozzie, that bureaucrats were good at obeying rules, and nothing else! How many exceptions do you think he will give me to his obedience?”

  
           Peter smiled. “Most of the time I’ll do exactly what you want me to do, my Lord Steel.”

  
           “Well, that will be nice!” Steel sighed.

  
 They all sat quiet a minute, smiling. It was a ridiculously domestic scene.

 

 

            Then Mozzie said, “Though this has been interesting, we should put in place some safety precautions for Lady Suit and Junior Suit.”

            Neal became alert and asked, enthusiastically, “Diana, were you ever a pom-pom girl? A cheerleader?”

            Diana gazed at him in patent disbelief and demanded, “I was recently starved, mistreated, beaten, shackled hand and foot and raped, and I killed a vicious, trained, well-muscled 200-plus pound armed warrior with his own sword, and you, who are none of these things, dare to ask me if I was a _**cheerleader?”**_

Neal stared at her. “I thought, I thought normal women were proud of having been cheerleaders…I’ve watched those team events, they are extremely agile and, and…” he burbled, then added piteously, “and I am well-muscled, just not heavy.”

            “Now you’re calling me a _**normal woman?”**_ Diana’s voice rose an octave-and-a-half and took on menacing tones.

            Neal stood and took rapid steps in the direction Away From Diana.

            Elizabeth was heard to whisper in horror, “Diana was raped?” Peter hissed, “She’s fine, now. Tell you later.” Steel was amused that Elizabeth didn’t feel any wonder that Diana had killed someone!

            Mozzie tried, “What my usually socially competent friend is trying to ask, Lady Suit, is, ‘Have you had any tumbling, gymnastic or acrobatic training?’

         “You see, the search will be for a couple from Earth, man and woman, both black, or whatever they will call that, here. Neal had an excellent idea that you could be an acrobat team, a man and his son – you’d be the son, Lady Suit, if you would be agreeable. We’d have to keep your Earthling heritage, you’re too distinctive, perhaps unique! We’d call you the Amazing Something-or-anothers, we’d have papers to prove who you were, we’d just need to work out some moves for you.”

            Diana looked at Jones and he said, “That might work! It might be fun!”

            She nodded, thoughtfully.

            Neal, emboldened, went on, “You see, we thought that we – well, Lucilla! – could make some stunning costumes, even headdresses or complete hoods, like superhero costumes, which would hide you if no-one insists on seeing your faces, and we can cut your hair, Diana…sorry…and make you up with more masculine features. I’ve done the opposite before, after all. And work out some balance moves, some flips, wouldn’t even need to be a long routine.”

             “And we think the costumes could obscure your figure, too…we don’t have to with Broad Suit, but make the costumes a match...perhaps gladiator-style, with padded shoulders for you and padded breast-plates, just to hide your exact dimensions, both of you.” Mozzie was making shapes with his hands.

             “And Diana, you’re not too…” Neal hesitated, realising dangerous waters lay ahead and sank down next to Peter, who promptly hissed, “I’m going to get _you_ for that nasty trick! I’m sure you were the instigator.”

            Neal rose hurriedly and moved, swift as a dancer, across to Steel and sank down on the floor at his side. Des sniffed him with some contempt and turned his back.

         “Safe!” said Neal, happily. Steel stretched out a hand and ruffled his hair as Neal had done to Junoel, and Neal sighed and leaned up against the arm of the chair.

 Elizabeth turned sharply, wondering what that sound was…it was Peter grinding his teeth.

 

After further discussion, all the Earthlings took Elizabeth to show her around, and catch up on all her news, leaving Peter with Steel.

             “So, Peter, am I forgiven?” Steel smiled at him.

             Peter made a face. “I know that was all a joke, a trick, to get me to go into a suite where you had stashed Elizabeth. I am very grateful, truly, that you went out of your way to find her and buy her. Couldn’t you just have asked me to go into the suite and find a – a table or something to bring you?”

            “I agree that it was a little cruel to use your fidelity against you, Peter. If I had known how vehemently you would have opposed the idea – though Neal did try and warn me – I probably would have taken another route. It was amusing, though! But it also showed me how much you really love and care for Elizabeth, and that I had done the right thing getting her."

   "I had the impression that you would be prepared, certainly would be able to use far worse threats to force me. Am I wrong?"           

            “Peter, I have seldom have to coerce or punish slaves. In fact, the only instances have been when a widow cannot control a child and comes to me for help…as Lord, I am surrogate father to all the children in the Keep. I can not think of a time I have punished an adult.

         “However,Peter, your instincts are correct. It does not mean it could not happen, just be aware! You have to know that I do, in fact, own you. I try to be reasonable, but I am not soft. I do expect obedience and respect from my slaves. And certainly no other slave owner I know would have discussed the situation with you. They would have given you an order and expected you to obey.

         “It is one of the reasons I am very careful about the slaves I buy. When I first became Lord, I was going to save everyone on the slave-floors. I started with the worst, it seemed reasonable, they needed my help most. But work it did not. I learnt the hard way that some people are beyond help, in such trauma they cannot, themselves, see past it.” His eyes were filled with sadness. “It is why I carry on my probably misguided and hopeless fight against that type of slavery.”

            “I feel the same way sometimes about my job, back home. I take one bad guy off the street, and three more take his place. And if the theory someone had that survival of the fittest is true, I’m just weeding out the weaker ones!”

            “Such as Neal?”

             “No, seriously, Neal was one of the best. He had _**a**_ weakness, a girl, he became careless…he was very young, still is in many ways. He’s at least as good as Mozzie. But Mozzie is more practical. I know Mozzie is a crook, he’s done bigger and more jobs than Neal has, he’s a little older, but I’ve never got one thing on him, just a few vague clues. And, you know, I’ve started to rely on some of Neal’s mastermind buddies to get information and to get things done that I can’t do. It’s all a bit weird, for me.”

            “Come! I want to show you a new horse Jarad sent us. Quite beautiful, lovely lines! I’m not good at all this sitting and talking!”

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 6


	7. Light years away and the answer's still Neal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El tries to get Peter to stop worrying about Neal, but he feels responsible for him still. Work starts on the acrobat's programme.  
> Neal tries to find out a little more about Steel.

 

 

Later, Peter took El back to their suite. She sat on the bed and watched him. He was actually pacing!

          “What’s wrong, Hon?” she asked.

           He stopped, smoothed his hair. “Oh, nothing. It really isn’t anything. I have you back, I thought I might never see you again! Anything else really is nothing.”

 “Well, you’re pacing for nothing, then. Why are you pacing?”

 “It’s Neal.”

 Her eyes twinkled. “Light years away and still the same answer.”

 “Yes. If we were at home, I’d say he was planning to run.”

 “Not your problem any more.”

 “Well, yes, he is. He’ll always be my problem. He wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for me.”

 “He seems to like Steel. In fact, I like Steel! Neal won’t run from him, I don’t think. And there’s nowhere for him – and Mozzie – to run!”

 “No, I know. I guess I…I…I still want him to be mine, and he’s not. Not just because of the slave collars, he’s slipped his FBI leash. He’s slipped _my_ leash.”

 “Ah.”

 “ I watch him conning Steel, and I know that all the time he was with me, he was doing it to me. If I hadn’t seen the dance before I wouldn’t recognise it, but I know every choreographed move.”

 “You miss him.”

 “I can’t even get away from him, what do you mean, miss him?”

 “You want him kneeling at the side of _your_ chair.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he sighed and said, “I just don’t fit in here. And somehow, he does. You’ve heard Steel…’Sir Mozzie’, whom he admires and thinks is a hero and brilliant.”

 “Peter,” she said, going to him, “Neal especially has learnt to make people like him as a survival mechanism. And Mozzie _is_ a very special person. When we get back…and I think we will…all the dynamics will shift again.”

“But I’ll never not know it’s all a fake again,” he said, sadly. Being his Elizabeth, she understood the sentence perfectly.   

“But, Peter, he likes Steel because Steel has been stellar, truly. He liked you for similar reasons. Both of you went outside the normal lines, above and beyond what normal people ….people…would do for him and his friends. Are you a little jealous?”

 “What, of _Neal?”_

 She just smiled. He grimaced. “I thought he was a friend. A partner, a special friend. I thought what we had was unique.”

 “You’re being pretty hard on him.”

 “Well, now I have you, and Neal Caffrey’s behaviour, as you said, is none of my business on this planet.”

 Elizabeth felt sad, but then Peter turned and kissed her, and she forgot all about Neal.

 

 

The first thing for Neal and Mozzie to do next morning was work with Diana and Jones on names.

          “Let’s go with Biblical names,” Jones suggested. “A lot of black folks round where I grew up are very church-oriented, and the names are nice. Joshua, Caleb, Nate, James, Joseph…”

 “I’ve actually always liked Elijah as a name,” Diana said.

 Neal, Mozzie and Diana worked together at the table designing costumes, and Lucilla and June came along later and made suggestions. Diana was enthusiastic about this disguise. Jones was strong and they were good friends and they trusted each other with their lives, so acrobatics weren’t going to be difficult between them.

 Diana and Jones went off to find a spare stable, or perhaps one of the practice halls in the armoury and start working on a routine. Mozzie acted as a theatre-nurse to Neal’s surgeon and watched as Neal made out new identity papers…Bills of Sale for Elijah and Caleb Starr, Papers of Ownership of said Starrs for Lord Steel of Steel Keep. Neal made almost everything he did look effortless, easy. Which came from hundreds of hours of practice in many cases, but he still made it look almost magical. Mozzie loved working with him.

Steel had told Lucilla to wait before doing too much work on the costumes, but the four of them, plus apprentices of Lucilla's who came and went and made suggestions, worked on five different designs, playing with padding that obscured Diana’s figure without limiting her motion, trying out fringing and flying ribbons to distract the eye, sequin-like reflectors and beading and metal work just because they could. Gloves would hide Diana’s too-delicate hands. Lucilla had some paints and brushes…again, some things seemed to have evolved exactly as they had on Earth, for hands, to spread coloured liquids. Neal took her paper and, with disconcerting speed, made fashion-plate sketches in full colour. He had looked at all of them often enough, imagined Jones and then Diana wearing them, made changes, he could have done them from memory.

Lucilla and the girls made admiring noises. Mozzie smiled smugly.

 Each costume would have an ankle-length cape to be worn when not actually performing, which would hide almost anything, including an assault rifle…or in this case, a sword.

 As soon as the paints had dried (and Neal had begged some from Lucilla to play with!), they went off to show the pair what ideas they had, and found the two involved in a balance lift, Jones leaning back, Diana with hands on his shoulders, one foot on his knee, the other straight and pointing at the ceiling. As they watched, she pushed off and went into a hand-stand on his shoulders, and, once she was set, he pushed up to stand straight. She smiled, and flipped off his shoulders to land on her feet. The watchers clapped.

 “Oh, this is so much fun!” Diana said.

 “I get a little concerned. I think we need a couple of spotters,” Jones said. “One slip and there’s no excuse for wearing pretty camouflage, you know.”

 “True!” Diana said.

 “How about telling us which of these you like? Or which you really hate?” Neal asked. The two poured over the designs, pointing or shaking their heads.

“I think the stark black-and-silver, with fringes and ribbons will be a good design,” Jones said. “Like zebras? You’re going to put pieces of silver in the black, or on the black, in these shapes?”

 “Yes. Make good, pad here and round here for girl, not so much for you, thicken waist some for her. Use patterns of black and white pieces to make the shapes we want people to see,” Lucilla told them.

 “Like Trompe L'Oeil,” Neal nodded. “Fool the eye,” he added for the ear-bugs.

 “So now you are Caleb and Elijah,” Mozzie told them, showing them the papers Neal had written out in a official’s hand. The fact that he didn’t understand the language hadn’t been a problem, one of Lucilla’s girls had written out what he needed to copy and he had, but in the style of the official. He said it was actually easier if one didn’t have the muscle memory of the alphabet, which tended to make one’s hand write in one’s own style.

 “Thank you for all this work,” Diana told them.

 “Aren’t you glad, Elijah, that we practised and practised and practised while being chased by Agent Burke?” Neal grinned.

 “Actually, you had most of your skills down pat long before Agent Burke appeared at the FBI,” Mozzie noted. “And there is no reason at all that Elijah should know anything about the FBI or your past, remember?

          “So, Neal, will you spot for Caleb and Elijah? I think I am too small and still a little weak.”

 “Meaning that you need to fortify yourself with fortified wines?” Jones asked with a grin.

 “Indeed, that is a perfectly logical process, Caleb,” Mozzie nodded.

 “Except we know Lira heals everything!” Diana told him.

 “She cannot make muscles and weight appear magically,” Mozzie argued. “I have to work at that!”

 “Anyway, Peter would be far better at spotting. He coached gymnastics at college, too,” Neal said.

 “Did he? How do you know?”

 “My business, once he made me his pet project, was to know everything about him. Never know what can be useful. There is even some film* of him, somewhere, if you look.”

 “And now you are becoming Lord Steel’s pet?” Jones asked, looking sideways at Neal.

“I play the hand I’m dealt, Caleb. Peter has been quite hostile. I like Steel, and I’m prepared to make him like me. It’s always useful. And,” he added, musingly, “at least this owner can really rock his gorgeous attire. I don’t have to be embarrassed to be seen with him in public!”

 “Be very careful he doesn’t see through your scam,” Diana warned. “He literally holds our very lives in his hands. He was teasing Peter, the other night, but he can do anything to us, remember. Jones and I have lived through that, and they are still aliens, we don’t know exactly what might trigger him to start treating us badly.”

 “But, Elijah, it isn’t a scam,” Neal told her, puzzled. “Why would you think that?”

 Diana was exasperated with him, but he was telling her the exact truth. He could twist almost anyone around his slender, artist’s fingers in pursuit of a perfect con, but he preferred to use his skills to cement very real, preferably useful, alliances. The obvious mark in this time and space was Steel, and the fact that the man was likeable was a huge plus.

 “Don’t anyone shorten Elijah’s name to Eli, it sounds feminine,” Mozzie was thinking aloud, ignoring Diana. He already knew that there were risks to what Neal was doing, not because Steel would ever tumble to it, no one ever had, but because Neal could get hurt, could get tripped up by his own, silly, idealistic heart.

 “Probably not in this world, these languages. We must ask, though.”

 

There was a confident knock on the suite that looked to become Peter-and-El’s permanently…till they left.

 They looked at each other. “Perhaps it’s Lord Steel?” suggested El.

“I’ll go.” Peter pulled on soft pants and soft top. El leaned back and looked at him. “I like these clothes, especially those gorgeous suits. Wonder if they’ll let us take them home! That’d shake up the Bureau!”

 “Not you, too…and not regulation.”

 “Bad suits are regulation?”

 “You sound like Neal!” Peter went through the living area to the main door and opened it.

 There stood Neal.

 “What’d’you want?” Peter demanded, ungraciously.

 Neal’s smile faded. “Wow, Peter, if we ever get back, they’ll give you the White Collar Division for sure, you’ve got the Hughes’ everything-tastes-like-quinine thing down pat!”

 “You just came by to insult me and interrupt my time with El?” His tone was hard.

 Neal stepped back, looked down, glanced back into Peter’s eyes and suddenly Peter could see nothing. He always could see something in Neal’s eyes, had prided himself on reading his CI. Now the liquid blue eyes might as well have become porcelain. It felt like a knife through his gut.

 “Just saying hello. Give El my love, won’t you?” The door shut and when Peter yanked it open, Neal was gone. Peter looked down the stretch of corridor in both directions, wondering again how Neal _did that._

 Peter went back to his wife, feeling angry and confused and many other things all muddled up. All negative.

 “Who was that, Hon? It sounded as though you were disgusted to see them.”

 “It was just Neal. He came with his juvenile act, left without a good-bye. Typical. He can wear fancy suits, but he’s got no class.”

 “Uh-huh,” El said, sitting up against the headboard-curtain-thing.

 “He did say to give you his love…being familiar, as usual.”

 Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she patted the bed and said, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

 He strode away and then back, waving his hands. “Nothing, nothing’s going on! That’s the hell of it, El…I want to go home. I – I understand home. I can do things, I have a job, we have a house and a dog, and I know who I am and who other people are. Our whole planet might be threatened and I’m **_here!_** Not even able to do any work here. Here I look in the mirror and I don’t even look like myself.”

“But, but, well, I know they are all aliens, but they seem to react as we do…Ophera and Brak are in love, like us, they have a house, like us, Steel is fighting bad guys, like you and Neal do….then all of your friends are here, they aren’t different people here.”

 “Like Jones and Diana and I did, Neal just did it to stay out of prison. He told me so.”

“I think you must have hurt his feelings, Peter.”

 “Neal Caffrey doesn’t have feelings. Sociopaths don’t. He just manipulates other people’s. He’s got you thinking he likes you. He’s got Steel thinking he likes him. And – and I’m worried for him. Back home, his antics could have landed him in jail. Here, Steel has the right to kill him out of hand. Neal’s playing with him as though he’s a just an ordinary person. What if Steel sees through that? As I say, at present Steel believes Neal actually likes him.”

 “Ah. He had you thinking he liked you.”

 Peter made that face that used to amuse Neal, it doesn’t really have a name. As though he’d taken what he thought was a nut-centre and bitten into a much-too-sickly-sweet strawberry cream.

“Yes. I thought we were partners. But all the way through, even back home, he was always pulling something on the side, helping Mozzie do something illegal, working with some old criminal buddy – Alex, Kate, whoever. Or doing something Illegal to try and find Kate, or whoever, whatever. He’d just take off in the middle of some operation because we’d pulled the anklet and he needed to prove to Alex he could, or needed to go and rob some little museum to pay off some shady character….music boxes and old wine bottles and ancient books and scarabs, always _something!”_

 “Didn’t he get the job done for you in spite of those things?”

 “Well, he didn’t want me to suspect that he wasn’t there all the time, so he’d scurry to get the job done, or get help from the short guy or something, but he’d duck out, I suspected him almost every time! But suspecting isn’t always having evidence for. Wasting Bureau resources keeping track of a damn criminal. If I’d known when I took him out of prison…” Peter caught himself up. Was he sure that’s what he wanted to say?

 El watched him, really distressed. This wasn’t Peter. He got frustrated, because Neal didn’t come to him with his problems, but he also loved the chase, loved how smart and quick and elusive Neal could be, yet still come back to them and cook them lasagne and tease Peter about his beer and ties. He had always loved the huge challenge Neal presented, daily. He’d been bereft when Neal had made a stupid mistake and he’d won and Neal had finally gone to prison, though he’d never said so. He hated the fact that Neal, bright and shining, full of the joy of life, so smart and talented, was in a brick-and-cold-iron fortress, just as they used to trap magic in the olden days. She believed in her heart that he hated Kate because of all the things she did to Neal, but mostly because she got in his head and heart and made him stupid for just long enough for Peter to catch him.

 For Peter to lose him, which is what it came to.

           She often thought that if he could have kept his job and chased Neal Caffrey, between other, dull and boring cases, always close but never catching him, he would have. Till they were both in wheelchairs! They’d both have thought that was the best life possible, if she had read them correctly, finally shaking hands when he was forced to retire and then living close enough to get together and filling each other in on details of the chase for the rest of their lives, over beer and wine and good coffee. Happily ever after.

 “As I understand it, Neal often didn’t choose, exactly, to become embroiled with his old contacts, that sometimes he owed them, or perceived he did, or sometimes they were bad people who had something on him that they blackmailed him with. I think you knew that was likely when you took him out of Supermax, Peter. You knew he didn’t live in a vacuum before you caught him. You had files on many of his contacts, didn’t you?”

 “A few. More, we had files on but hadn’t made the connection.”

 “You’re acting like a jilted lover.”

 “I am not!” Peter said, loudly, then, at her expression, “Sorry, El, but I. Am. Not.”

 “Okay. When you feel like talking to me about it, we’ll talk.” She dressed in one if the brown soft shirts and skirts, went to the piece of furniture that would have been a dressing-table, back home, found the brush she decided must be for hair, and started brushing. When she’d plaited her hair in a single braid and tied it off with a ribbon…someone had been very thorough, perhaps Neal told them she had long hair when he last saw her, he noticed things like that...she said, “See you later, Hon,” and went in search of more congenial company.

 

 Neal had commandeered Joster to help. The four of them were having fun. Joster was very young and didn’t have a lot of life experience, but he was strong and willing and good-natured. Jones came up with many new lifts and moves to try, and some of them worked and some of them seemed impossible, or would have worked, perhaps, if Diana had been two feet shorter, or much taller! Once Neal had to literally catch Diana in mid-air and she found herself in a cradle-hold, not on her head in the straw and gawped at him, surprised by his strength.

 He smiled his trademark smile deep into her eyes…even Diana could see how charming he was, though she would go back to her old lord rather than tell anyone that!…and set her down on her feet. “See, muscles. Not bulk, just strength. Be glad!”

 “Thank you, Neal!” she said. “But don’t tell anyone back home!”

 “Back home, Elijah, you’ll be telling everyone about this amazing white boy you and Caleb wanted to recruit for your act! Free-climbing and other…um…things I may have done…do take strength and balance and body-knowledge.”

 “Join the act, skinny, arrogant white boy!” Jones chuckled. “We could have fun with three!”

 “I am so sure you’re right, Caleb…more so if Elijah was a beautiful and straight _woman_ …I could get interested in such acrobatics, but no. Then we’d have to find another spotter.”

 Joster looked a little shocked, then giggled.

 “Peter wasn’t interested in helping?” Jones asked, again.

 “Be honest with you, Caleb, he bit my head off before I had a chance to say hallo, let alone ask for any favours. He said I’d interrupted his time with Elizabeth.”

 “As though his job didn’t, before, often,” Diana said, thinking about ways to make the trick work without her falling into the arms of a man, even if he was strong enough to catch her safely.

 “He used to get grumpy if things didn’t go his way back home,” Neal said. “Make everyone’s life a misery. I thought when he had El back…but I guess I was wrong. I’m really glad he was better when he was my handler! I’d have thumbed it back to prison, as I threatened that first day.”

 “I’m going to shower,” Diana said. “I think we’ve done enough for today. Let’s go and help with lunch, shall we?”

 When Jones and Diana were walking back towards their suites, she said, softly, thoughtfully, “You remember what made Peter most grumpy most often?”

 “Yeah!” Jones snorted. “Sometimes a case that wouldn’t break, but usually - Neal! If he and Neal were at outs…hmmm.”

 “Yes. That’s what occurred to me, too.”

 “But he’s not responsible for Neal here. Neal can’t exactly get thrown in prison, we’re already slaves, and he’s protected by Steel, if what he did for us is anything to go by.”

“Peter Burke, control freak,” Diana pointed out. “Would feel responsible for Neal if Neal had finished his sentence, moved to Mongolia, started a billion dollar reindeer-cheese business, married a Lap and had sixteen children. Felt responsible enough for…Diana, his most brilliant probie _ever_ at his division, when she went to D.C. to call her every week, and then every two, and check up on her progress with her supervisors when he had no right, really, and certainly no responsibility.”

 “And Neal is happily cozying up to his new handler and Peter doesn’t like it?”

 “To give Neal his due, Peter was being snappy and irritable with him, and Neal needs to be liked, so he turned to Steel, who seems amused by him, at least.”

 “Lots of people have been amused by Neal Caffrey (et al) – right up until, and sometimes even after – he’s lifted their gold, their jewellery, their collection of Old Masters and their eldest daughter.”

 “Yeah. I would inventory my collection, if I were Steel, while Neal is on the spaceship, but before it leaves the port!”

 Jones threw back his head and laughed.

 

Meanwhile, his ears not burning in the least (but then, he’d have thought he had tinnitus if that really happened whenever someone was talking about him), Neal thanked Joster and walked with him for a way. Joster was going to practise his swordsmanship, and Neal wasn’t yet in his league.

 Neal was disappointed about Peter. He’s actually thought that they could patch up their friendship, laughing and joking and making suggestions, both silly and helpful, to the two new acrobats. But their friendship…if it had ever been anything but a mutual benefit, getting him out of prison, getting Peter a better closing rate … seemed to have been left with his anklet, back in New York. He still missed the weight and feel of the damn thing sometimes. He was unusually quiet, walking next to the bouncy young man,( who still reminded Neal of the best of Canadian youth, open, polite and friendly), but Joster wasn’t to know that.

 “So, Joster, tell me the worst thing about Lord Steel,” Neal asked.

 Joster shrugged. “He works himself very hard, he has high ideals and if he sees that something is wrong, he really finds it difficult to leave it be. He’s tiring, therefore, because he makes us feel as though we need to keep up with him.”

 “Easy to like.”

 “Oh, yes!”

 “What makes him cross…with you, or his slaves, not the world in general.”

 “He does not get cross very easily. He teases people out of things, usually. I saw him catch one of us in a lie. I do not know how he knew, but he just grinned and asked irritating questions till…this guy …owned up and said, ‘But my Lord, how did you know?’ and Lord Steel grinned more broadly and said, ‘I will always know, do not try that with me!’ and I do not think he ever did.”

 “Didn’t punish him?”

 “No. Well the boy felt like a fool, everyone knew about it.” Joster walked a bit and said, “This is my hall.

          “You know, he seldom has punished anyone. Let us acknowledge the facts… we have things very easy. Other masters have all these rules to make themselves feel important. Their slaves have to kneel when they enter a room, are not allowed to speak before being spoken to, are not allowed to eat before the master eats, no matter how late he arrives home, are kept in cold and uncomfortable conditions – one slave, who is here now, had been bought for her looks, and was kept naked for her master’s enjoyment, no matter the weather. Our Lord treats us pretty much as equals, and seldom insists on what other masters call ‘correct behaviour’.

          “Other Lords have their slaves whipped, or locked up, not allowed to speak for days, sometimes gagged with painful apparatus, or on crackers and water, or doing hard labour – and worse things still. I have never had to worry about that. I guess it is possible, but I think the act would have to be pretty heinous…and we like our Lord and know how fortunate we are to be here and not with some other Keepers.”

 Neal felt chilled, thinking of all the ways he and the others had been blessed to end up here. “Thank you, Joster, for everything. Can we call on you again if we need you?”

 “It would be an absolute pleasure, Neal. And though today I am practising and then I have a session with Leran, I will certainly be happy to work with you on your sword-play, too.”

 “Thank you!...Oh…Lord Steel was teasing me the other day, saying that he sometimes went off with one or two people and needed to be good with his sword, and I pretended to think he robbed banks…what does he need to be so good with a sword for?”

 Joster hesitated. “I think, if he needs to, he will tell you, Neal. Would not be my place.”

 Neal smiled and nodded and left, his brain kicking into a higher gear. He loved a mystery!

 All the Earthlings were helping in the kitchen, except Neal. El was perfectly polite to Peter, but he knew she was irritated with him and was trying to be extra nice and enthusiastic. He wasn’t good at subtleties, though, and June and Mozzie were nudging each other and wishing Neal was there to see the little soap opera being enacted in the Keep kitchen

“Where is Neal?” Peter asked, eventually, giving up on El for the moment.

 “He came in and took some food for himself and Junoel, and they went off together,” Ophera said.

 “Where would he take a child?” Peter demanded, and Diana nudged Jones and hissed, _“See? Has no expiry date!”_

 Steel asked Jones and Diana how the act was progressing, and they told him, explaining that Neal and Joster were helping. “I hope it’s all right for us to get him to help, my Lord?” Diana asked.

 Peter didn’t know what they were talking about, and wouldn’t ask.

 “Of course, Diana, if I need him for something urgently, I shall let you know.”

 “Elijah thanks you, Alien Chief,” Mozzie put in.

 Steel winced and said, “Sorry!” then, “By the way, where _is_ Neal?”

 “Gone on a picnic, apparently,” Peter said, and Steel glanced across at him, a little perturbed by the tone. “Um…food eaten not at the table? Usually outdoors?”

 “Do you have everything you need, Elizabeth?” Steel asked.

 She smiled at him, breaking a roll with her fingers. “Everything is wonderful, my Lord. I want to know how I can help.”

“Well, Ophera, I have been wanting you to share the load a little…you have taken on all the domestic management of this Keep, and help a little with Sea Keep as well. How would you like Elizabeth to come and learn from you and help? It is in her area of expertise, even though her world is very different.”

 Elizabeth had already been looking over Ophera’s shoulder and asking about the fruits and vegetables and various other ingredients being used, and they had struck up a mutual appreciation already. Elizabeth was smart and easy to like.

 "Let us try that, Elizabeth, see how you like it?” Ophera nodded.

 “On the understanding that you may not have her help for very long, if things go well,” Steel reminded her.

 

 Elizabeth started working with Ophera that afternoon, which left Peter unable to mend the rift he’d caused…though he wasn’t really sure why she was miffed with him. Neal’s fault again!

 He wanted to practise his arms training, but thought to take an hour or so and just check up that Neal wasn’t getting himself into any trouble. He checked the armoury and the stables, and asked one of the older women there if Neal and Junoel had taken out any of the horses, and was told that they had, but had been back for quite a long while. He checked their suite. He went to the kitchen, the Greatroom, the music room (where he found Mozzie, trying out the various instruments. Mozzie denied any knowledge of Neal’s whereabouts, _but then he would, wouldn’t he?_ ), finally the library…no Neal, no Junoel. He puzzled. Where would they be, and what would they be doing?

 Now his hour of looking was long over, but he had become determined to find Neal – how far could he go? – and strode rapidly down the corridors, getting lost a number of times. He called. He went into an older wing that seemed abandoned, the dust was everywhere and there seemed to be no footprints in it, so…he was now angry and a little more concerned. The tracking anklet had been a very good thing, when it came to Neal! He should have implanted a chip when he was in hospital for that gun-shot wound, just as they had done for Satchmo, to find him if he got lost.

 However, in his rôle as paranoid friend, Mozzie had probably scanned every square nanometre of Neal’s skin after he had been unconscious and in Federal Custody, and if he’d found anything, he would have, in his rôle as Neal’s lawyer, sued the pants off everything to do with the White Collar Division and Hughes and Peter in their individual capacities. He would have loved to make the Burke’s house Thursday-evening, or something! But no, Mozzie would never do that to El. But he would have done it and then given it to her, in her name. …Peter realised he was rambling, even in thought.

 He gave up and went to the Arm’s Hall and took his irritation out on a straw-filled dummy, killing it over and over with less skill than enthusiasm.

 

Later, Steel had better luck finding Neal. He found him sitting on a bench ( Peter had passed it several times, but it had then been empty), gazing at a very large painting of, apparently, the starry sky, nebulas and strange, beautiful shapes, glowing against the black background.

 Steel sat next to him. “Everything well with you, Neal?” he asked.

 “Why wouldn’t it be, my Lord,” Neal turned and smiled.

 “Well, you are a newly captured slave, for one thing.”

 “Been a slave all my life, one way or another, especially the last six or so years. This seems less constraining, so far. You are an exceptional master, you do not expect unreasonable servility from us.

          “The Slave ship was a nightmare, I still dream about it, but it’s different here. I realise that if we can’t get home you will assign us work, it will be less of a holiday.”

“Holiday, that is certainly an interesting view on the situation!” Steel smiled, looking again at the painting.

 They sat in companionable silence, then Steel asked, “Peter seems extremely uncomfortable with his new position.”

 “Mmm. I think most humans would be. He’s not particularly adaptable, my Lord.”

 “He was your friend?”

 “We were partners. There was some friendship, but he never could forget I was a criminal, reminded me often of my essential, never-changing part in the team…” Neal smiled a little. “Obviously had no faith in the rehabilitation aspect of prison, or work-release, or friendship for that matter.”

 “So a friend, but not a close friend.”

 “Mmm... He did a great deal for me, my Lord, treated me much better than most of his colleagues, was polite and pleasant much of the time, counted me as a valuable asset and not to be risked if the matter was not desperate. Our partnership was a great improvement on prison, and I will always be grateful.

          “For one thing, I cannot imagine how scary it would have been to be in prison when the aliens, the others, attacked Earth!”

 “Your description,” Steel observed with a frown, “sounds as though he had less affection for you than I do for any decent horse in my stables!”

 “I am putting it badly, then, my Lord. He loved that I challenged him, he enjoyed our partnership, both before he caught me and after I worked with the team.”

 “Now you sound as though you are…were… a high-spirited, difficult, though useful horse!” Steel told him.

 “I think – I used to think — he liked me, even loved me a little.” Neal sat forward, putting his elbows on his separated knees, looking at the floor. “Can I ask you a question, my Lord?”

 “Of course.”

 “Why do you do what you do? You’ve taken on this rag-taggle bunch of Earthlings, we kind of forced ourselves onto you, but I know you’ve done good things for many slaves. The clothes we get to wear, the beautiful slave-collars, the nice rooms – by the way, now that June is in a suite with Elijah…hmm, we should change that, he should be with his father, or in a single man’s room…well, all of us guys should now move into single quarters — but why do you do it? Brak says you’re crazy or a hero.”

 Steel laughed a little, and unknowingly repeated Brak, “Depends who you ask. My father told me I was crazy rather often. But truly, Neal, because I can. And I would perhaps ask you to move, but I really want Mozzie to have a nice suite, he did something so outstandingly brave, he deserves some little luxuries. I normally reserve that for new slaves, there is a smaller one I can give to a single new slave…I almost always buy just one at a time, getting three was extremely unusual and having all the others arrive uninvited has made things interesting! But because of getting you all and getting clothes made and finding how to get you all home, and if not, finding satisfying positions for you, I am not going to the slave market again soon. So stay in the suite. Mozzie, J- Caleb and you can each have a room there. Elijah can have a single room…hmm…”

     “The single rooms share showers, don’t they? Well, no matter, Elijah can come and use ours when we’re not using it, no-one will think to wonder about him coming to visit his dad.”

       “Good. We will ask Elijah if that is acceptable for him.

          “But to answer the rest of your question: The clothes…well, Lucilla was, before her capture, a wardrobe mistress for a huge – theatre? — she loves doing what she does, and it makes many of my slaves feel better about themselves. She is teaching a number of girls, and a few boys, all her knowledge. I thought to get her set up in her own business, but she declined. She said it was far more satisfying to be with me, she had no worries about accounts, or a place to work and sell from, she could just be creative! She does take private orders from disgustingly wealthy Freemen and Keepers, and she gives the proceeds to me, and I put some of that to what I do, and some into a fund for emergencies.

          “The collars are made for me by a husband and wife, Tak and Embra who were slaves in the household when I was born and taught me some tricks of their trade when I was a lad. When I inherited the knot, I gave to them the same offer as Lucilla, and they took it and I freed them and set them up in a place with all the right facilities, and they made it work. In return they make these lovely slave collars, they have all sorts of designs and I try to pick one to fit the individual’s character, and they help out with weaponry and armour and fixing anything metal.

          “That is what I like to do. I think it is what most people like to do: make people happy, give them the chance to be…themselves? I was born into a social position to be able to do so. I could control my Keep with whips and shackles and fear, as some others do, and have an itch between my shoulder blades every moment, and have slaves kneel at my entrance and smile at me because they fear punishment if they are slow to do so. It just seems a bad life for me, and for my slaves.”

 He was silent for a time, and Neal turned so he could see his face a little in the soft light.   Then he went on, with some difficulty, “I often wished, when I was younger, that I could just be a slave. My father was far more…um...far less casual and what he used to call familiar with his slaves. He used to punish me, for my own good, trying to stop me putting myself in harm’s way by trusting our slaves too much. But still, he was not a bad master, and how much easier it would be to just leave someone else to make all the decisions, to dirty their hands with politics!

          “However, just as Peter is stuck in a situation he hates, hopefully temporarily, I am stuck with my lot in life as well. I could just have enough slaves and keep them and only replace one when he or she became old or achieved freedom. That is what most Keepers or Freemen do. Collecting humans, as one of my friends once called it, is my hobby. It gives meaning to my life and makes recompense for having been born into a position of power and privilege.”

 Neal had a sudden fierce desire to hug his Lord, so young and yes, so idealistic. It probably wasn’t the heinous crime Joster had mentioned, but would certainly shock Steel rigid. He compromised by sliding off the bench and pooling at the Lord’s feet, leaning against his knee, keeping his face down. He felt Steel’s muscles stiffen in surprise, and said,  

          “Lord Steel, I, for one, am forever in your debt. For saving us, for treating June and Mozzie with gentleness and respect, for creating a home for all your people. Slavery is a loaded word back on Earth. It means everything vile. But most of us are in service in one way or another…you are a slave to your birth, too.

          “If your plans for us go awry, it would be my pleasure to serve you as long as you need me.”

 There was a silence long enough to make Neal become nervous, then Steel put his hand on his hair, again, and he said, “Neal, as Mozzie said, it is mutual. I have done what I could, that is all. Is it not what Elizabeth and Peter did for you, is it not what Mozzie did for you? They did whatever they could. Is it not what you yourself would have done if you wore the knot?”

 Neal swallowed and said, “My statement stands, and my gratitude, my Lord.”

 They sat in silence for a while longer, then Steel said, “Those commitments to which I am a slave, Neal, are demanding my attention. I need to eat and go and see the Slavers this evening.” He waited till Neal leaned away from him and stood, giving Neal a hand up from the cool stone. A little shy of shared emotions, they walked in silence back to the kitchen.

 Then Steel said, “Oh, and Neal, there is yet another forgery I wish for you to undertake for me.”

 

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 7

*Note: Film of ‘Peter’ – Tim DeKay - coaching: _Peaceful Warrior_

 


	8. Letting go her alias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth tries to resolve the problems with poor success, the Slavers have gone so Diana becomes Elijah and Steel collars his new slaves...and a business associate.

 

 

          Neal changed and went to help Elizabeth and Ophera and when he saw that El was making pasta from scratch, he took off his jacket, rolled his sleeves up above his biceps and washed his whole arms and started kneading large balls of dough while the ladies rolled it out. The only difference was that the grain wasn’t exactly wheat, but close enough, and the ‘chickens’ weren’t birds at all, but a type of domesticated reptile that provided eggs. _Well, they say birds came from dinosaurs, who knows?_ Neal thought. _They taste similar, little more like goose eggs._

           Other slaves ran here and there, bringing ingredients for the sauce and stirring the meat-portion, and watching, trying to learn about this weird dish that seemed to come in parts and not make any sense at this time!

           “I didn’t know you knew how to make pasta,” El said, stirring the huge pot of ‘tomato’ sauce, which she was making from something like apples that weren’t as red as tomatoes but had a similar sweet-sourness and not a bad texture. Elizabeth was having fun trying to duplicate Earth favourites with local ingredients, as well as learning some of the local specials, too.

She watched with innocent enjoyment the play of his muscles as he worked.

           “Similar,” Neal grunted, “to working with clay, actually. The perfect blending, getting bubbles and lumps out… _how_ many people are we feeding? This is worse than watering cows!”

           “Anything extra we can dry. You should see their lovely stillroom, their huge pantry, their wine cellar and root cellar. They even have a cold room! And a mushroom barn! It’s a cook’s dream!” El told him, eagerly. “There are fresh herbs out the back, the kitchen garden is enormous!”

           “And we dry for the winter months, and grow sprouts for greens, then,” Ophera added, smiling at Elizabeth’s enthusiasm. Neal was thinking about Lucilla’s reaction to ‘freedom’ : that she’d have to do the books, look after a workspace, all the other aspects of a business as well as her creative projects; it wasn’t worth it. Interesting. He’d never thought about it that way. In fact, much of the time he had conned and stolen – well, partly for the thrill, but also partly to have the time and means to pursue his creative dreams, which usually meant forgery. He’d felt guilty about ‘wasting’ his time doing original work. He wondered how his life might have been if he’d had the means and the time, and perhaps a little encouragement.

          They worked in companiable quiet much of the time, but when Ophera guessed they had more than enough dough and suggested she go out, check that everything was watered and start cutting herbs that Elizabeth had chosen as next-best to Earth’s Oregano and Sweet Basil, Neal took over the rolling out of the pasta into sheets, careful not to stretch it, and he told her in detail about Steel teasing Peter. He had an exceptional memory, also developed for his criminal activities where one sometimes could not use a recorder or a notepad!...but he did carefully leave out any reference to war-horses!

             “…and I was too skinny and needed feeding up, so Peter was his only viable choice! Eventually Steel told him he just had to talk to you, so Peter, with great reluctance, caved, bitter and twisted as he obviously was!”

           “Yeah, that needs to wear off quickly!” El said, grating cheese and ridding herself of hostilities. “What have you done to him?”

           “Who, _me? Me?_ Nothing! He’s been getting worse, and I thought he was just off his head worried about you, he asked each Earthling about you first thing. I was sure when you had been found and purchased, he’d settled right down and mellow out, but if anything, he seems worse!”

           “Back home, it was always you. He says it’s you. I think he…” El hesitated, then went on, “I think he feels you don’t need or like him anymore. As though all the time you worked with him it was just to stay out of prison.”

           Neal was about to give her the easy lie, then hesitated. “Well, I wouldn’t have exactly been on his side if he hadn’t caught me, wouldn’t have voluntarily put my ankle in a noose, but he was a good handler, and I kept thinking we were friends, he was my mentor, there was something…he’d tell me he was proud of me, what I’d accomplished, I felt he had love in his eyes – you know the look – I almost felt as though he was like a…” Neal cleared his throat, “…like a father, proud of me, and then he’d turn around and tell me he had to remind all the team that I was a criminal. Not very paternal and caring. I felt as though he liked to keep me off-balance. Perhaps to make me think about every thought and action, but it got very old. He made sure I knew I would never be anything else but a criminal, a conman, a forger, a liar. So after a time I felt there was little point in trying.”

           Elizabeth looked very troubled. “I told him to trust you. But then you would steal something, or shake your tail, or run a con…it was hard for him. He loves you, you foolish man, but he’s a lawman, his job was always on the line, too.”

           “And as told him, when I broke the law or disobeyed His Federal Agentship and it worked to close a case, he was all smiles! Bad as I may be with structure, when the structure moves like a 9.8 seismic event, I leave the room by the nearest exit.”

           They shared a sympathetic look. The she asked, “So what’s up with him _now?”_

          “I have not the faintest idea. It isn’t me. I haven’t run any cons, I haven’t stolen anything…yet…I haven’t lied to him, in fact, I told him some home-truths, and he didn’t seem to like _that!_ I’ve only forged things he approved of me forging.”

          “I think he feels you’ve moved on.”

          “We’ve all moved on…dozens of light-years, I believe.”

          “You have a new handler, as it were.”

           “Good grief, Elizabeth, he can’t possibly blame me for being someone’s slave when he is, too! How is this my fault! I didn’t even want to go into the office the morning the raid happened. Even Lawmen are higher on my Christmas list than mad, pushy military personnel on US soil and much higher than mad pushy extra-terrestrial _alien_ military types on US soil!”

           “Y-yes, but Lord Steel is very pleasant and easy-going…?”

           Neal’s voice rose to falsetto levels: “He’s rather I’d found us a tyrannical, vicious, mean, raping, murderous bastard like Diana’s, Elijah’s, whoever the _hell_ she was! Oh, he has finally lost his _mind!”_

           Elizabeth wasn’t quite sure if Peter wanted her to say these things, but he sure was never going to. She wasn’t even certain that she was reading the situation correctly.

           “I think he thinks you like Lord Steel more than you like him,” she finally said, softly.

           Neal snapped, “Who the hell’s fault is _that!”_ and stormed out, fuming, nearly knocking poor Ophera off her feet. She stepped back and he muttered, “Sorry!” and disappeared.

_Oh, I am **so** going to stay right here when they leave and go home!_

 

 

          Neal wasn’t at dinner, but Elizabeth carefully wrapped a large portion of lasagne in the huge green leaves Ophera told her they used for such things, and had Pila scamper to his room and leave it by the fire there. She gave Peter moody looks, feeling that he was at least partially to blame.

           Much later, Steel knocked on Neal’s door and found him asleep. He sat up hurriedly, it was never a good thing to be caught defenceless, then saw who it was.

           “How was it?” he demanded, then remembered that he didn’t know which way he hoped it had gone!

          “They were not there,” Steel said. “I have told the rest of the Earthlings. I am sorry. I should have gone two nights ago! They have gone on another raid somewhere. Not Earth. I spoke to one of the Slave Hounds who was injured and was left there to guard their place. I have also told him to let me know as soon as they return and I will be very generous…but he thinks it will be more than a fifty-day.”

           “Oh!” Neal was good at hiding his emotions. Especially when he wasn’t clear about what they were! He said, “I’m sorry, my Lord. It appears as though we will be a burden on your hospitality for a while longer.”

           “Yes. Let us talk tomorrow, when we have all rested. Good sleep, Neal.”

 “And to you, Lord Steel.”

 

 

          At breakfast, Peter spent much of his time glaring at Neal. Neal ignored him, or didn’t notice. Neal seemed preoccupied. Neal was causing El to be somewhat cold towards him, and he couldn’t even be bothered to notice that he was being glared at?

           Steel had a few things to do, so they all – except Neal — helped wash up and put things away and start on the next lot of vegetables!

          “So Neal is just as good at getting out of busywork here as he was on Earth,” Peter muttered. “I bet he’s just lying on his bed or flirting with a pretty girl somewhere.”

           Diana and Jones shared an eye-roll.

           In the Greatroom, they found Neal sitting on the floor, his back to the edge of a chair-seat. He spoke pleasantly to June and Mozzie, and asked Jones and Diana when they wanted to get together…Peter wondered what that was about…and then Mozzie apparently told him a joke, because he chuckled and then nodded. After that he sat quietly and concentrated on Lord Steel.

           Steel told them the story with a few more details.

           “I am very sorry, my friends, for this. Not that I _know_ we could have got you home, but now there is this period of waiting, and that can be hard.”

           “Well, we’d better get on with being good slaves and earning our purchase price and our keep!” Jones said, matter-of-factly. “You have been very patient with all of us, but now that we’re looking at quite a long stay, I, for one, wish to be useful.”

           Steel smiled. “You, Caleb, I obtained for free, remember, you and Elijah! However, there is plenty of work if you would help. I think some of you are already busy: Elizabeth and June are helping Ophera in various ways, and Lucilla says June has helped with mending, which is a never-ending job, I think!

          “Elijah and Caleb, you must be ready to perform, so practising is very important and takes top priority. Neal, you were helping.

          “I would also like Peter, Caleb, Elijah and Neal to work with Leran and find your skills as far as weapons go, and become proficient. That happens over time, I know, but I think it is for the best that you try. We still do not know what is to come.

          “What else can you do?”

           “Well,” Diana said, “we are all quite capable of housework and some farm work. We are now healthy and young and physically fit, Caleb, Peter, Neal and I. I’m sure there’s enough of that, with this size Keep and property to give all of us full time work.”

           Steel nodded. “That is true. But you have skills that might be useful to me, as well, from your former lives.”

           Jones looked dubious. “I’m not sure. We had to be fit and strong, but a lot of our work would have been finding people, working with computers and databases. I can’t see any of that translates to being of use here. We are good at watching people, using guns of various sorts, we’re intelligent and trained to observe and analyse people and data …information about them, and accounts and so on. We are trained in several forms of unarmed combat, as well, but have no experience against swordsmen…daggers and knives and guns, yes, swords, no.”

           “We’re all bright, Lord Steel,” Diana said. “We can learn. Your systems are different, but I’m sure we can all learn them quickly, and help.”

           Mozzie just sat quietly, and it was Peter who asked, “What is Mozzie going to do?”

          Steel smiled to himself, then looked up and said, “Oh, Sir Mozzie and I will work something out. He has specific skills.”

           Neal glanced across and grinned. He wasn’t sure if Steel was gently putting Peter in his place, but certainly that’s what Peter looked as though he thought Steel was doing. Elizabeth was sitting next to Peter, but they weren’t touching.

           “From what I have heard, you are all good at working on your own and organising. That sort of thing is useful, as many people need leadership and direction. What you would be doing is probably beneath your intellectual abilities, but many folks find it rewarding. And I truly hope it will not be for too long.”

           “I would like to learn to ride while I’m here,” Jones said, a little hesitantly. “Peter has told us that the horses aren’t the same, but he’s certainly better at riding these horses than I am, so what I learn here will help me back on Earth if we get there.”

           “That is another thing. While Peter can probably train these horses, under direction of my people, there are many horses already trained who just need exercising every day. Outside, at first, and later in the indoor arena as the weather worsens. There is all the work associated with the horses…feeding, grooming, cleaning out the stables. The waterfall flows forever over the rock.”

           Diana chuckled. It wasn’t a Earth saying, but the meaning was obvious.

          “Elijah, I think it is time you took your rightful place,” Neal said.

           “I spoke to Elijah about the sleeping arrangements and he is quite willing to move to what I am told would be called bachelor quarters,” Steel said, “if you, Sir Mozzie, Neal and Caleb are happy for him to use your bathroom. And honestly, if he goes into Mistress June’s rooms or Peter and El’s for that matter, no outsider is likely to see. It is just an excess of caution to move her – _him_ \- out of June’s suite.”

          There was a pause. “Anything else?” Steel asked. “Then go to whichever area and ask the person in charge for directions, or help, or a list of things that need doing. We’ll keep re-evaluating, and find where you most want to be and where you can be most useful.”

 

           Mozzie called Neal and Diana over when Steel had left. “Come,” he said, quietly, “let us go to our suite.”

           Jones went, too, out of curiosity, and El and June got up. El said, “Peter, Hon, we have a lot of work to do, so I’ll see you around lunch time!”

          Peter rose hurriedly and kissed her, and the two left. Peter strode off to the stables.

           When the four reached Neal, Jones and Mozzie’s suite, Mozzie said, “I think we must take it that you have need to get into character, Elijah. I’m sorry, but we need to cut your lovely hair.”

           “Oh!” Diana said, slightly horrified. “ But, but…surely there’s someone else…I mean…”

           “Mozzie’s cut my hair since I was about fifteen, sixteen,” Neal told her. “It’s a hidden talent. He once masqueraded as a stylist to the stars in Italy for six months…he made so much money in tips from high-fashion models and noblewomen that he almost gave up being an unknown or alleged criminal mastermind in favour of an internationally famous coiffeur!”

           “Why on earth would he choose to…oh, _tips_. Just not those kind, right?” Jones shook his head.

           “They say women tell their hair-dressers everything. You would not _believe…!_ ” Mozzie nodded back.

          “I don’t think I want to know!” Jones stuck in, hurriedly.

          “If you wreck my hair…” Diana told Mozzie. “…well, when I get back, I’ll shoot you!”

           “No you won’t, Elijah! Firstly, you’re an acrobat! What’re you going to shoot him with?” Neal spread his hands.

           Diana glared, not trusting herself to speak.

           “I’ll let him cut my hair first, to prove what I say is true,” Neal said, sitting down in a straight-backed chair. “It needs a trim.” Mozzie bustled out with a towel and some scissors and a comb. Diana and Jones looked at each other, _How could these two fake this?_

          Diana watched closely as Neal’s hair was trimmed. Too closely: Mozzie kept saying she was inhibiting his creative process. Neal made faces. Jones grinned. At least Mozzie couldn’t mess up _his_ hair!

           After Mozzie had brushed off Neal’s neck, swept off the towel with a flourish and looked at her with confident expectancy of homage, Diana threw up her hands and said, “Oh, he’s going to cut it all off shorter than Caffrey’s! I can’t expect it to look like anything much anyway…and it’ll grow!”

 “That’s the spirit!” Neal said, encouragingly.

          “But if any of you dare laugh, or even smile or grin or especially smirk,” Diana started as Mozzie pegged the towel to her top, tight around her neck, and sharpened the scissors carefully, “I will have to find some way of making you pay…seriously!”

           Jones and Neal watched with interest as the clumps of thick, black hair fell to the floor. Diana was trying to remain impassive, but it obviously bothered her.

Neal hunkered down in front of her and said, softly, 

         “When I have to let go of an alias, I feel as you are feeling. Sometimes, it’s permanent. The man has come to the end of his natural life and I have to let him go, dissolve him. It hurts. Those mannerisms, that accent, that wife or child or house or job is part of me and I have to purge them all and wash them away. It’s not supposed to be easy. You need to honour who you were. And then embrace who you are. But for you, whatever happens, at some point it will be safe to go back to being who you were with a thick and beautiful head of hair. Just not now.

          “Now you are running a con that is life-or-death. You have to sell this. Elijah would never have long hair. It would be girlish. It would upset the set of the hood of his costume. How father would think he was a cissy and not good enough to be an acrobat in his act…his father always has thought that Elijah might be too young for the act. Elijah has to prove in every way that he’s good enough, man enough. Elijah is good, and he’s stubborn and strong and he’s going to prove his father wrong. He’s going to grow up and be a better performer than his father!”

           “Hey,” said Jones, “don’t make me a difficult dad! I thought we had a really good relationship, we have to trust each other! Don’t put doubts in h-his head!”

           “Caleb, he’s a teenage boy! You have a great relationship, and your teenage son – surprise! — is a little rebellious. Perhaps he’d rather have long hair and play cello in the orchestra, but because your eldest son was drafted into the army, or ran away, and your wife hurt her ankle and cannot perform any more, the full load of carrying on the family tradition has fallen on his shoulders. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he won’t disappoint you, but sometimes he wishes that he had six other brothers to share your expectations.

          “And now it’s only the two of you here, on a foreign world, and you have to prove to your lord and master that you are good enough to keep around.”

           “I’ll try not to put too much on his shoulders,” Jones said.

           “Good! He’s only a boy, after all. But he loves you.” Neal stood up and Mozzie said, “Chin down, Elijah!” and snipped and sudsed and shaved the kid’s neck expertly with the straight razor that was similar to the Earth ones he apparently had always used and then wiped and dusted and said, “All done!”

           Diana looked up apprehensively at Jones and Neal and then Mozzie as he came around to look, putting up a hand to feel her strangely short hair up the back of her suddenly cool head. “Well?” she demanded.

           “Oh, my!” Neal said.

           “Who would have guessed it?” Jones remarked.

           “Told you!” Mozzie smirked.

           “What!” Diana demanded, looking for a mirror.

           “You make a gorgeous boy!” Neal said. “You have a great shaped head, and – wow!”

           “It’s true! You look like a really handsome young man!” Jones said. “No-one will believe we’re related!”

           “Your wife is a beautiful woman,” Mozzie reminded him.

           “She’d have to be!” Jones groaned.

           “What’s wrong?” Neal asked. “You have a son to be proud of!”

           “You must have started really young, however!” Mozzie pointed out, giving Diana a hand-mirror.

           “They’re Earthlings! What do these people know about how we age! Perhaps we become sexually active at eight!” Neal shrugged that off.

           “Some of us probably did,” Mozzie murmured accusingly.

           “But now I have a _real_ problem!” Jones groaned again.

           “What?” Diana said, smiling tentatively at her reflection in the mirror. She actually did make a good-looking boy!

           Jones waved at her and put a hand to his head. “How am I going to keep all the pretty girls away from him!”

           Diana’s smile broadened a _lot!_

 Later that day Steel went off to town and came back with slave collars for Caleb, Elijah and Elizabeth. After dinner he made a big production out of claiming his slaves, and couldn’t help blinking at Elijah’s new appearance.

           “You look really handsome, Elijah! How lucky!” He carefully fastened the silver chain-collar around her neck, a little more chunky than he would have had made for Diana. Jones’ was positively heavy-looking, to emphasize his strength.

           Then Steel went round to Elizabeth and glanced across at Peter, who couldn’t hide a wistful expression, hating to see her taken from him as Neal had been…

           “Would you like to do the honours, Peter?” Steel asked, softly.

           The table of slaves glanced at each other. This was unprecedented.

           Peter cleared his throat. “I would, my Lord.” He attached the pretty, delicate collar around his wife’s neck and kissed her as though it was a faith-ring. Everyone clapped, and he smiled broadly. They sat, holding hands.

           “I have yet another presentation, as it were,” Steel said, going over to Mozzie.

           “You have more brains, I hope, Alien, than to think you are going to yoke and harness me to your slave-wagon!” Mozzie said, not moving, not even bothering to look at him. He drank some wine.

           “A slave-collar this is not. You are not registered on this planet at all, and while you are within my Keep there is no real need. But should you wish to travel the streets in broad daylight, this would be useful to you, I believe. Here are your papers, worry not, they are not real, but perfectly forged! Your name is…”

          “Amadeus Mozart Liberty,” Neal said, when Steel hesitated with the pronounciation. “Mozzie is your nick-name. You are a very, very wealthy entrepreneur from a far-away land on another continent that Steel can tell you about if you care.”

           “The social position comes with a businessman’s knot,” Steel said. “Lucilla will weave them for your outer garments. It means that no-one will question you, or detain you. It gives you social standing and prestige.”

           “Lord Steel pointed out that at present you have nothing: you are not a slave, and he would not make such a brave personage a slave. But if you go out, it’s as Lord Steel said to Peter, this is like a passport, identity documents. But not real!”

           Mozzie looked up at the papers and the knot, which wasn’t spherical, as the Keeper’s knot was, this was a flat, braided knot. “The size indicates your importance where you come from. Like…” Steel hesitated.

           Neal filled in: “The nearest thing, as I understand it, Mozzie, is that it’s like a diplomatic passport.”

           Mozzie stood up, wiped his glasses and then his eyes with a huge handkerchief (always useful for binding wounds or tying someone’s thumbs, he’d once told Neal) and said, “Thank you, Lord Steel…and I’m assuming Neal?”

           “On my Lord’s command, Mozzie.”

           Peter leaned over to El and asked, “Why does Mozzie still wear glasses…he didn’t have them when he came, did he - oh, one lens was broken! -  and Lira sang for him…?”

          “I think he hides behind them. They’re plain glass, I checked,” El whispered back.

           “Oh.” Peter wasn’t all that concerned, now he had El back, cuddled up to him.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 8


	9. I must have some secrets!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal can always find ways to entertain himself.

 

 

          After that, the slaves – and Mozzie — settled into routines. The acrobats and their spotters crafted a fifteen minute performance. Mozzie and Neal, as well as Caleb and Elijah, would suddenly think of something and suggest it and if it proved workable, it was added. It kept the whole thing interesting. After that they tried to work at least an hour twice a day on their programme.

         

The other thing that created some entertainment, for three of them at least, was a little game that developed between Neal and his lord Steel. Neal just wasn’t always around…he worked, but when there was free time and the other slaves sat and talked or played games or just did little things, such as mending, together, Neal would pleasantly give his regrets and leave. He always showered just before going to bed, by choice, and was seldom in his room when Jones and Mozzie rose in the morning. Jones asked Mozzie about it, but Mozzie just shrugged.

           “He can do without a lot of sleep,” was all he would say.

           On top of that, Neal and Mozzie tended to disappear together after work was finished in the evenings. The other Earthlings remarked it, Peter made disparaging comments, and eventually Steel himself became interested. The first time he went looking for Neal he wasted a good two hours before he got the dogs and they lead him to a little-used music practice room where Neal and Mozzie were talking in low voices.

           “What are you doing in here?” Steel asked, pleasantly.

           “Just talking, Alien Lord,” Mozzie told him.

           Steel really couldn’t think of a good reason why they shouldn’t be there, talking, just because no other slaves did it, so he left them.

           About four days later, he decided to find them again. This time he went to the music rooms first, but they were empty. He got the dogs and they soon caught Neal’s scent and raced up staircase after staircase with Steel pounding behind them till they reached the very top, a kind of large cupola-tower, with blind glassless windows that looked to the four quarters that had been a guard tower in restless times past. Above it, there was only the bells, huge metal signals for times of war or disaster, looming in the dark, that hadn’t been rung in Steel’s lifetime. There was no-one in the tiny, breezy room, but the dogs leapt at the east window and put their paws on the sill, barking.

          Steel pushed past and, his heart in his mouth, leaned out over the wide stone wall and looked five storeys down onto the cobbled stable yard. There was no broken body there.

           When he finally got back to the Greatroom, Mozzie was playing chess with Neal, using a home-made board and pieces. They both glanced up distractedly and acknowledged him before turning back to the battle.

           He almost spoke, but let it go.

           On the following occasion, the dogs took off at a dead run and led the way to the kitchen, where a large piece of meat was hidden under the meal in the substantial flour container. It took ten kitchen slaves about an hour to clean up once Steel had the enthusiastic and excitedly snarling dogs under control. The fact that he made sure that Neal was one of them didn’t really soothe him as much as it should have as he first had to wash the large dogs – they wouldn’t let anyone else beside Steel and Brak wash them - and then tried to wash flour out of his own hair.

           Neal had been struggling not to laugh at the sight he presented, holding a bouncing dog’s harness in each hand, all three of them nigh unrecognisable. But then, so had most of the other slaves who came to see what the fuss was about.

           Using his weak empathy never was Steel’s first choice, but the next time he left the dogs behind and found Mozzie and Neal in the library. And the next night, in one of the unused single bachelor quarters. He was feeling very good about this. But after that, the door was shut. His empathy led him nowhere. When they met, Neal was polite, docile and wide-eyed and to Steel it was almost as if he wasn’t there. Seldom had he been so mind-blind when it came to anyone, and it was especially disconcerting, as before Neal had been a relatively bright light in his sometimes blurry mind-vision.

           He cornered Neal after dinner the next night. He took him to the library and locked the door behind him.

           “What did you do?” he demanded.

           “Who, me?” Neal asked, innocently, moving to a safer distance. After all, this was the first time **_Steel_**   would have heard it!

           “How did you…the first time, how did you escape the tower? And I must suppose you were the one who lured the dogs with the meat…very funny…and now? How are you masking yourself from me?”

           “One out of three any good to you?” murmured Neal to the floor.

           “What do you mean?”

           Seeing that Steel really was perturbed, Neal relented and suddenly flared as a beacon in Steel’s mind, as luminous as ever.

           “I have only known the Chiri be able to do that…did you speak to Lira?”

           “Chiri? Interesting. In a fictional Earth story I read, they called them Chieri. Mozzie is right about all this quantum physics stuff!

          “No, no, I didn’t ask Lira, my Lord. Mozzie and I just talked it over, realised you must be using your empathy that you told us about and if it’s a mind-power, or an emotional power, or a spiritual power, then it should be able to be blocked by something similar. I just wanted very strongly for you not to be able to see me. It is exhausting, too.”

           “Show me how, and I will forgive you…reluctantly…the meat in the flour.”

           “Meat, my Lord?”

           “Now that I can read you…” But though Steel was still aware of Neal, the knowledge he automatically sought was just invisible, or had never been there.  
“You did not do it? Then who? And the tower? You made your whole body invisible to me and the dogs? I have never known anyone…and you are an _Earthling!_ Peter believes not in telepathy or healing or _anything_ he sees not!”

           “My Lord,” Neal said, moved closer and put his hand on the young man’s arm, against all protocol. “I cannot be invisible…well, Mozzie says that there is nothing impossible according to recent physics theory and its ramifications, but I so far haven’t managed that! I climbed out of the window, my Lord, that is all.”

           “Twelve man-heights or more above the ground?” challenged Steel, disbelievingly, a slight edge of hysteria to his voice.

           “Mmm…I had to choose a windless night. But otherwise it’s quite easy, the stones are rough and there are many tiny ledges. I climbed around the tower and down about two and a half storeys onto the highest roof, walked over it and climbed in a window I’d left ajar.. a little open.”

           “You would have to be _mad!”_

           “Peter often said so. But I have done it regularly in the past…it’s easy if there’s ivy…plants climbing up the walls, or rough walls. Smooth plaster makes it hard unless there are strategically placed downspouts or drainage pipes, flag-poles or awnings. It takes strength and a lack of fear of heights, but was very lucrative on occasion. And cheaper than ropes and winches and harnesses and things. And there’s often an escape route where no-one else sees one.”

           Neal kept a wary eye on him, but Steel merely sighed, opened the door and let him out.

 

 Peter spent most of his time in the arms’ halls and the stables. As a boy he had made money in neighbourhood stables, and this was pleasant, though sometimes hard work. He calmed down and he and El were happy enough, though at times he worried about the situation on Earth. He and Neal just didn’t spend much time together.

 

          He was troubled about that. One evening, when most people were getting ready for bed, he walked determinedly down the corridor, intent on reconciling with the man who had been, for a time, his closest friend. He knocked on the open door, but there was no-one in communal areas of the suite. Hoping that Neal was still in the room he’d originally claimed, he twisted the handle, which opened under his hand and he pushed the door and gaped in astonishment. Neal wasn’t there, but….Dominating the room…overpowering it, some might think…was a huge painting, stars and nebulas and strange shapes of light on a black background.

 

About ten minutes later, Steel was standing next to Peter, looking at the painting on Neal’s wall, when Neal walked in.

           “Hallo, my Lord. Hallo, Peter!”

           “How could you steal Lord Steel’s painting!” Peter demanded loudly, further irritated by hearing how stupid the homophones sounded.

           Neal looked at Steel, but Steel just appeared mildly enquiring.

           “I didn’t steal it.”

           “Come,” Steel suggested, and led the way to the wall he and Neal had stared at together…and there was the painting of dark night, lit with stars, nebulas….

           Neal smiled.

           Steel turned on him. “How did you do that?”

           Peter ground his teeth again. “I was so stupid that I didn’t think he could steal or forge or – or counterfeit – or - ”

           “You always did underestimate me, Peter,” Neal told him, softly.

           “Which,” Steel asked, “is the real one?”

           “Oh, they’re both real, my Lord,” Neal said, earnestly. “I am not a mesmerist…I cannot influence your mind or produce visions… you are not seeing things, no drugs are involved –”

           “Neal.” Steel’s tone was a warning.

           Neal laughed. “This is a copy. The one on my wall…your wall in the room I am using at present…is the original.”

           “How did you move something this big?”

           “In my…line of work…before…if I was who they say I was… it was useful to know how to transport things, sometimes large, sometimes fragile things.”

          “That is not an answer,” Steel pointed out, while Peter, with difficulty, restrained himself for probably the hundredth time from hitting his erstwhile CI.

           “No, but I must have _some_ secrets!” Neal pleaded, smiling winningly.

           “B-but where did you get a material or a board this big?” Steel asked, gazing at the massive thing. “We have no such…”

           “Um, it’s not a canvas or a board. It’s notepaper from Lucilla’s store and her paints, too. I stuck them together with your rice-stuff, much boiled, and stiffened them with the same paste, dried them and painted on them. It’s actually – this one is – a gigantic jig-saw puzzle. The pieces are numbered on the back, as, trust me, it’s difficult to get them right quickly otherwise. Or ever!”

           “Paper…rice…” Steel gasped.

           “And the paint is just the simple school paints that Lucilla uses. If you get it into the light you’ll see the difference immediately. I couldn’t get the same effects. It’s an extremely poor copy at best. It was a challenge, though.”

           “When did you do all this?” the Lord demanded.

           “I don’t need much sleep when I’m working.”

           Steel blinked.

           “You see what I had to put up with?” Peter demanded of him.

           “Calm down, Peter!” Neal suggested. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

           “You’ve stolen a painting worth I don’t know how much…on Earth the bigger they were, the more… area cubed or something…but a _lot…_ from the man who owns you! How can you say—”

           “Peter, use your brains. I love the painting. I like looking at it. I didn’t steal it. I moved it from one part of Lord Steel’s keep to another. _I_ don’t own any walls on this planet. So others wouldn’t be disappointed if they went to look at it, I painted another. Which fooled you, so they wouldn’t have been frustrated by missing out on anything …unless they could get more light on it, and it’s beauty rather lends itself to low lighting.”

           “Why didn’t you put _your_ painting in your room?” Peter pressured, deliberately looming over him.

           Neal looked into his face and said, slightly exasperated, “Peter, remember when you were chasing me, you kept a box with all the information you had collected in your room and would go down in the middle of the night and pore over it sometimes, trying to see something you’d missed?”

           “How’d you know that?”

           “Elizabeth told me. You did, didn’t you?”

           “Yes! What’s that got to do with—”

           “If I had my painting hanging on my wall, I’d be forever up with a brush trying to fix bits and make them better. I wouldn’t get any sleep!”  
  
          “Did you get Lord Steel’s approval for the move?” Peter almost shouted. “No, you didn’t! Why not?”

           “Because he might have said no, and this was fun!” Neal was sounding a little annoyed now.

           “I would most _assuredly_ have said no,” Steel said, gazing upwards at the huge artwork.

           “There you are!” Peter exclaimed, triumphantly.

           Neal hesitated, and Steel went on, “I would never have believed you could do this. I would never have thought you could move the original without smashing it! I heard all the stories, Neal. Jones, Diana, Peter, they have all, somewhat reluctantly, sung your praises…but I had no idea how brilliant you are.”

           “Thank you, my Lord.”

           “Steel – he _stole_ your _painting._ ” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Shouldn’t you lock him up where he can’t—“

           “Peter,” Steel said, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder, “the fact that you caught this man says a great deal about your intelligence and dedication. I am truly in awe of you both and all I can say is, I was blessed with a truly amazing deal when I got the two of you...let alone Mistress June!”

           “But—“

           “No, be not humble. This has proved how valuable you are!” Steel put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and they walked down the corridor side by side as Steel continued. Neal, who knew just when silence was the best defence, walked quietly two steps behind, head down to appear docile.

           And to hide his grin.

 

 

 

About half an hour after Steel and Peter had left him by his door, Neal was lying on his bed, gazing raptly at the painting but glanced over, seeing movement, and Steel was standing in the doorway. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet.

           “Oh, yes, now is a good time to be servile, Neal,” Steel commented.

          “You aren’t really cross, are you, my Lord?” Neal asked, cautiously. After all, this was an alien with life-or-death authority over him.

           “Can you tell me why should I not take you and Peter down to my second dungeon —”

           “The castle has _dungeons?”_ There was a boy’s delight in his tone.

           “It is a _castle!_ Of course it has _dungeons_ …two levels of them. What sort of place do you think I am running here?”

           “Oh!”

           “Why should I not take you and Peter down to the second dungeon from where no sound rises to the main level – it was designed such specifically – and lock you both in and let him _beat_ you?”

           “B-but Lord, I thought you weren’t annoyed with me. I didn’t steal anything.”

           “You risked a seven-generation-old magnificent painting that was bestowed to my great-great-great grandfather by the king for service to his realm and worth, I daresay, more than your entire planet …and hung it in your room!”

           “B-but, Lord - ”

           “And you did it for _fun?_ ”

           “Well, yes, I did, but - ”

           “And Peter, who feels that your behaviour reflects poorly on him and his leadership, is furious.”

 “Yes, but he isn’t, anymore, and - ”

 

           “I value him just as much as I value you.”

           “I’m sure, my Lord, b – ”

           “So why should I not reward him for all his efforts with a little fun of his own?”

           “Beating me?”

           “You think he would not enjoy that at this time?”

           Neal was silent.

           “I think he would, and after all, it is my opinion that counts. So unless you have a good reason why I should not let him ...?”

           Neal blinked at him.

           “Perhaps you are not as bright as I thought you to be. I will give you until breakfast tomorrow to compose an argument to sway my decision.” And with that, Steel left.

           Neal blew out the candle he liked to use by his bed and lay thinking. He remembered what Joster had told him, of course. This was probably just Steel trying to bother him and make him look silly in front of everyone tomorrow. Especially Peter.

           He hoped.

 

 

 

The next morning Neal helped make breakfast and seemed a little subdued. El asked if he was feeling well. Peter glared and told her that he had been up wallpapering part of the corridor, that was all. El ignored them both. It was the best she could do when these two were at odds.

           “Where’s the Lord?” Peter asked Ophera. “Do we set a place for him?”

           “He probably will miss breakfast, he told me,” Brak explained.

           Neal’s mood lifted during the meal. He, Jones and Diana were telling stories of funny things that had happened in the office or at stakeouts. The subject of devilled ham sandwiches might have come up. They were handing round tea and toast, and Steel walked in.

           Neal’s face fell and he looked really uncomfortable for approximately seven one thousandths of a second. Steel looked at him gravely. “Did you compose your little speech for me?”

           Neal sat up, straightened his shoulders and smiled. “Well, yes, my Lord. I will explain first from the point of view of Earth, I know that better, even though I suspect the whole problem is simpler here. You will understand that my knowledge of Earth law is in general purely academic as I was not usually much concerned with adhering to it?

           “As I understand it, on Earth, if someone from law enforcement enters a private residence, whether he opens a door or breaks a window, if he doesn’t have the proper authorisation, which is called a warrant, and which is only issued for a search of premises if there are sufficient facts to convince a judge that there is a crime being committed on the premises, or evidence of a crime already being investigated, then anything he sees is unable to be used in court, as it comes from an original crime. It’s called the fruit of the poisoned tree and there are very few exigent circumstances, situations where this is set aside by the courts.

               “In one case, I deliberately went outside my radius, and my anklet alerted the Marshals, who alerted Peter and our team. I managed to get some criminals to take me inside their building where they were forging bonds…ironic, that…and because Peter was then chasing a fugitive into the building, all the evidence in plain sight was admissible. It was everywhere!

           “Had Peter merely opened the door, even though it was Earth and as an FBI agent he had legal jurisdiction in every area of the country, if he had just gone in and seen the evidence, it would not have been admissible and he would have had to let the criminals go free and no charges would have been laid. He would have been severely reprimanded, of course, which is why he didn’t do it.”

Neal took a breath.

 “On the other hand, my Lord, I believe that the situation here would have been different, if those same criminals were your slaves, working within your Keep. I believe it would be perfectly legal for you to walk into any room and evidence of crimes would be admissible in the courts of your justice. You are the owner of everything within the Keep and, as I understand it, the adjudicator and executor of penalties.

           “However, I cannot think the same would apply to other slaves. Perhaps in some Keeps it would be, I am assuming that the rules of the house apply here. I think you would be loath to have slaves opening doors on each other, ignoring the rules of normal courtesy and politeness, trying to find something to use to get another into trouble with you, for example. I think you would be justifiably annoyed with any snooping slave because very soon there would be a total breakdown of trust, slaves would start resenting you for listening to talebearers, start defaming each other, even manufacturing lies about each other to try and stay in your good graces.

           “I have lived in prison, my Lord, where just such practises create a living hell. Not all, but some of the guards and wardens listen to innuendo and gossip. There are prisoners who have great status within the prison…they are often murderers or the like. Lesser prisoners often try and …and…curry favour? …um…make the ones with power like them…by telling tales of other prisoners or even guards. If the guards don’t like a particular prisoner, for whatever reason – usually because he won’t try and bribe them or squeal on other prisoners, they may just let the more powerful prisoners get him in a place of isolation and wreak physical revenge of various sorts on the weaker prisoner.

           “It shouldn’t happen, of course, it’s disgusting, but it does. I cannot think you, or any sane Lord, would want that chaos to spread through their slaves. On Earth the wardens and guards are not now, in these so-called civilised times, allowed to physically abuse the prisoners, though there are ways that they can…throwing them in solitary confinement, a tiny cell where no human contact occurs, for example.

           “But they can still look the other way and let other prisoners do their dirty work for them. I ended up in the prison sanatorium on a number of occasions because I am smaller and less naturally violent than other inmates and I didn’t have contacts. Later, I made sure that no-one could do that to me and think there would not be terrible reprisals.

           “In your Keep, I would think there is some grey area when it comes to slaves with obvious authority, such as Leran, Brak and Ophera, but I cannot be sure.

           “Does that cover the situation you wished me to address, my Lord?”

 Steel gazed at him for a good minute without any discernable expression. Then he asked, “So in prisons on your planet, in more primitive times, the guards were allowed to beat the prisoners, but at no time were other prisoners allowed to do so.”

           Neal nodded. “That was the law, though it was always disregarded by guards and wardens of little moral fibre.”

           “I see.” After a few moments of contemplation, Steel added, “But I did understand you, in those earlier times the guards and people in authority, those people were allowed to beat you…the prisoners… if they thought it was necessary?”

           Neal thought a moment. “You know, I’m not sure about how the law was worded. It certainly happened, and there was little justice because of the secluded nature of the whole society.”

           “But sometimes the prisoners did take action against one another, so long as the guards did not know, and this still happens?”

          “Yes, but it’s against the law.”

           “But against the law or not, it still happens? And the guards beat prisoners, too, and are usually not brought to justice?”

           Neal made a slight face and said, “I assure you it does. Which is why I feel we are all so very blessed to belong to you, my Lord. You told me that you could control your Keep with whips and shackles and fear, as some others do, and have an itch between your shoulder blades every moment, and have slaves kneel at your entrance and smile at you because they fear punishment if they are slow to do so. It just seems a bad life for you and for your slaves, you told me, my Lord.”

           Steel turned to Peter. “Peter, you were the senior lawman before you left Earth. Is what Neal is saying true?”

           Peter shifted a little and nodded. “Yes, Lord Steel, in essence he is correct.”

           Steel looked at Neal and said, “In that case, I must suppose that the dungeons are …what do you Earthlings call it…off the table? At least for the moment.”

           Neal was impassive. “Yes, I think so, my Lord.”

           Steel left immediately, and Jones demanded, “What was that all about?”

           “Come on, give, Neal! Has Steel finally come to his senses? Was he wanting to throw you into a dungeon and lose the key?” Diana, dressed now in working clothes suitable for an older boy, looked the part of the mischievous teenager, her eyes alight.

           “No, Lord Steel was not wanting to throw me in a dungeon and lose the key!”

           “Well, whom did he want to throw into a dungeon, then! He certainly was thinking about it...or having someone roughed up! Come on, you can’t keep this from us!”

           Peter cleared his throat and said, “The Lord was just trying to understand more about how our systems differ, and asked Neal to explain.”

           Neal glanced at him and nodded. “It wasn’t anything exciting, Elijah, really.”

          “But why didn’t he ask Peter?” Jones puzzled. “Peter’s much better at all the law stuff.”

           “I thought it was good that Neal did it,” Peter answered, “ and he’s had experience in prison, which, in many ways, is like our situation here. Steel could do anything to us, just as an unjust warden would have done.”

           “There’s more to this than that, and I for one am going to find out about it.” Diana moved her now non-existent hair out of the way and Mozzie said, “Be better if you broke that habit, Starr Junior.”

           “Do you know what that was all about, Moz?” Jones asked him.

           “Not a thing.”

 

 

Neal reached the arms’ hall first and took the opportunity to practise with his throwing knives. He’d just thrown the last one and took a step to go and retrieve them, when there was a throat-clearing and Peter asked, “Is it safe to come in?”

           “Sure, Peter.”

           Peter came up to Neal and stood fiddling with the toggle-ties on his work jacket. “Steel asked you if he should punish me because I went into your room without your permission and tried to get you into trouble with him?”

           Neal hesitated. He had tried to show Steel that the facts that Peter had used against him had been collected incorrectly, it was true, but he hadn’t wanted to get Peter into trouble instead!

          “You talked him out of it. Thank you.”

           At another time and season, Neal would have banked it. But he smiled his Caffrey smile at Peter and told him: “No, he made me talk my way out of him throwing me in the dungeons with you and letting you beat me for being wicked and making you furious because I was causing you to look bad as my handler.”

           Peter’s eyebrows went up. “Oh!” He grinned. “I wish you hadn’t done such a good job, in that case!”

           They stood a moment, and Neal asked, “Peter, could we…could we start again?”

           “Oh, Neal, yes! I don’t know how we got to this point! I’ve – I’ve missed you!”

           Neal nodded, and suddenly found himself locked in a bear-hug of Burke proportions. They ended up slapping each other’s backs and generally acting like idiots, happy with relief.

           They separated and Peter said, “And now El will love me again! I don’t know why she holds you in such high esteem!”

           “Is _that_ why you just came and made up with me? And if you don’t, Peter, you just haven’t been paying attention all these years!”

           Peter looked at him thoughtfully. “Exactly what was he going to let me hit you with?”

           “Peter, I didn’t ask him! I really didn’t want to know!”

           Peter laughed and then they heard voices making their way towards them. “Should I tell them what really happened?” he teased.

           “Well, if you don’t mind me telling El a very –”

           “All right, all right!”

           “Come and help us today. You haven’t seen Caleb and Elijah’s act, have you?”

           They worked together and it almost could have been for some undercover operation they were running for the Bureau…almost. Peter was happy, he was smiling and, as Neal had said, he knew his stuff and could really help show them how to stabilise a lift or turn a move into something that was actually safer, but looked more dramatic.

           Often he would just adjust a hand-hold (“If you slip, you’ll dislocate Caleb’s thumb, Elijah!”) or shift Diana’s foot an inch, or order Neal to, ”Support his back so he can get a feel for his weight as he twists over!”

 The act became longer and far more professional.  

 

 

 

End of Chapter 9

 

Comments welcome.

 

 


	10. Speaking to an Expert...and a Warrant Arrives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written before Master Plan...
> 
> Steel talks to Peter, he's notified that his Keep is to be searched for the missing slaves, and the Earthlings decide to handle the problem their own way.

 

 

 

 

Five days passed. Mozzie became fitter, and they were all settling down and feeling secure. Not that they didn’t miss home and all the people there, but the past became a little removed. There was nothing they could do. They could just hope that one day they could go home and find that the war had been won and everything was as they remembered it or, in Mozzie’s case especially, much, much better.

 Lucilla and her team, which was quite large, worked their magic again and Mozzie and Elizabeth also got a few sets of beautiful clothes. Mozzie’s outfits were just different from all the other men’s suits. They weren’t made on the same type of pattern, the tops were longer and they had the wide shoulders, but buttoned up with frogs in the front. The colours and designs were dramatic and somehow made Neal think of stained glass windows. Mozzie normally dressed for instant obscurity, but found these comfortable and since he was an honoured guest he, too, enjoyed the chance to play a different rôle!

 Steel made it a point of keeping an eye on Neal. Or trying to keep an eye on Neal. He knew quite well that Neal could be anywhere and the only way he’d know if he was up to something was if he had gone ‘dark’ again. And even then, it might just be that he was practising being ‘dark’. Steel had to admit that Neal and to some extent Mozzie, were the most interesting slaves he’d ever obtained, and also the most maddening.

 He went to Peter. Peter was busy saddling up a large black horse with a white mane and tail and violet eyes. He was talking to him when Steel approached.

 “Going for a ride?” Steel asked. “Mind if I join you?”

 “I’ll saddle up Kintil, she needs the exercise, my Lord.”

 “I am quite capable of saddling my own horse, Peter!” Steel did so, quick and efficient. They mounted up – on the wrong side, according to Peter! – and started out. The trotted for a while, then cantered and galloped. Steel kept an eye on Peter, but Peter had adapted well to these alien horses, and rode the feisty stallion easily, smiling. Once the horses had got the tickles out of their legs, they cantered a while longer, then dropped to a walk, cooling them down.

 “Peter, can I ask an expert something?”

 “Depends if you can find one,” Peter grinned.

“I think you qualify as the best person to ask.”

 “Ask away, my Lord!”

 “Neal…is he always this restless?”

 “Restless…?”

 “You know as well as I…the painting he first borrowed and put in his room is now back on the wall. Since, there have been two others, also replaced with copies for the time they were absent from their usual places. Mozzie and Neal get together and …and talk. I do not know about what. There are hours in most days when I have no idea where one or both of them are. Neal plays pranks... I think.

          “What does that say to you about Neal’s state of mind?”

“Oh, my Lord, if there was a manual on Neal Caffrey, I’d have spent all I had to get it at one time!” Peter groaned.

“Tell me _something!_ You must have learned something in all your years chasing him and working with him!”

 “Yes, I did. And I’m not sure it will help!

          “Neal is always restless, as you call it, unless he is in deep and dangerous depression. His girlfriend was killed and I thought we’d lose him, too…for a while there he wasn’t restless. He was almost comatose.

          “Normally, he’s doing something. He creates, often forgeries. He reads prodigiously, which of course he can’t do here. He learns stuff, any kind of stuff. It’s an addiction for him. He speaks eight languages, Earth languages, he reads more, I believe.

          “I don’t know him as well, but Mozzie is also brilliant but more settled, composed. He learns too, he’s also creative in a different way, much more…technical? …but Neal always seems to be looking for something, as though if he can learn that next trick or prove his forgery is fantastic because he hung the damn thing in a museum and no-one noticed, and he got away with the original, something, something will fulfil him and he will be able to rest. Or perhaps it’s just as simple as that his mental abilities are so much greater than mine, and he wants to keep them occupied. Which is why he looks at every situation from a dozen angles I would never have seen, which is why he’s so good to work with, why he is such an asset.

          “The problem you have, that I had for years, is that you don’t know what he’s doing. And why. He might be learning ancient Greek - a complex language that has been around a long time on Earth, perhaps Euclidian Geometry, or the History of the Pianoforte - because he found a book and didn’t have anything pressing to do that day. Or he might be learning ancient Greek to create fraudulent ancient Greek documents for some billion-dollar scam. And if he’s just learning Greek for fun, the document idea will occur to him, or Mozzie, at some point in time!

          “Then there’s the survival thing. People here have said that he’s brilliant because he learnt some Cortican Standard while most other slaves just try and survive the Hounds. But that’s because the other slaves don’t have hope, they just wait for whatever doom falls upon them, after trying to get away and being beaten a few times. Neal not only has the ability but also the strength of character, the will to survive to collect any and everything he can that might be useful. It might not be, but he wasn’t doing anything anyway, might as well collect. An opportunist of high calibre. ”

          Peter was smiling.

 “You admire him tremendously,” Steel noted.

 “If you ever tell him so, I’ll deny everything, my Lord, but oh, _yes!_ I can’t tell you how many times he’s been handcuffed, by cops or other criminals, and somehow he’s just shucked the cuffs. And sometimes that was because he had picked up a nail, or a paper-clip or some bit of junk, and used it. He doesn’t need to, I don’t know how, but he can get out of any cuffs so long as his hands are not separated and sometimes even then.

          “And with his abilities, he could be a mastermind criminal – and he is, or perhaps was! – but he could have very easily been far more dangerous, far more powerful. He could have ruled nations, he could have been the most powerful gang leader the world has ever seen. His gang…because he gathers friends easily, especially if he puts his mind to it…would have made any military or political offensive in the Earth’s history look like a play-ground spat of chldren, with his alliances and his brains and ability to see several moves ahead and many alternatives to every move. And if Mozzie was his advisor…well, let’s say the aliens would have had no chance if those two had been in control of the planet!”

 “If he could have done that, why did he not?”

 “Very simple, very profound. Neither he nor Mozzie likes violence. They won’t chummy up with anyone who is violent as a lifestyle. Neal will lie and lie…until someone might get hurt. At times there was collateral damage – you know? — but usually the crimes he committed were against people or institutions who could well afford to lose what he gained. If someone truly loved a painting, Neal would never steal it …unless he could replace it with a forgery the owner would never suspect, of course. So they would have to be very rich, so if the swop was ever revealed it wouldn’t hurt them financially. But he’d steal from bad guys, in his estimation, leave them in their underwear in the snow with no compunction at all.

"And I think they'd dislike organising that many people!”

 “But Di – Eli- — Di, oh, um…Diana, when she was still here, told me that he shot a man.”

 “Yes, he did. He was a very bad man, and he’d proved that over and over, including kidnapping El and me, and Neal was fighting him, and then he turned on me, and he would have killed me, but Neal recovered enough to pick up a gun…I nearly fell over as the evil bastard did. I didn’t think Neal knew how to use any kind of gun, and if he did, I didn’t think he had it in him to calmly take such a high-risk shot. It holed my pant’s leg and went on to bring down Keller. I should have known better. Picking up skills and abilities again. I should have known.”

“So in our situation here..?”

 “Well, knowing those two, their survival instincts, and you’ve seen some of that in Neal and had proof of that in Mozzie’s arrival, well, I would bet they know or are learning every entrance and exit in every area of your castle. Even ones you don’t know about or have forgotten. I’ll bet they could walk out of here tomorrow and disappear into the world out there, should they choose.”

 “But – ”

“You gave them the forms, I’ll bet they both have several other aliases, other ‘entrepreneur knots’ and papers all nicely made out, and hidden where even you will never find them. They have their names, their family members, their careers, hobbies, where their houses are and where they went to school, how they walk and talk, favourite foods and colours and flowers all memorized!”

 “Lucilla would never help them with knots!”

“Mozzie has been known to alter one uniform into another overnight because Neal needed it, and without Neal there to measure, either. I told you, they have multiple survival skills. Heck, copying a flat-knot would be childsplay!”

Steel groaned. “I gave Neal the forms and the ink and the handwriting!”

 “Yes. Welcome to my former world!”

 “So you think they are going to escape?”

 “Oh, no. Not yet! It’s just something they do, it makes them feel secure. There were any number of times they could have run, in New York, what Neal said was true: they had the resources and the knowledge, they could have moved to any country in the world and just lived there with enough money to enjoy life and I would never have found them. Unless they started committing more crimes, the Law Enforcement communitywould have thought them a low priority. I might have had a few months to try and find them…a needle in a haystack…um, an almost impossible task…and that’s not even if they had surgery and changed their faces.”

 “So they will stay?”

 “Yes. So far Neal likes it here.”

 “So the borrowing of the paintings, the climbing out of high windows – you know he did that? I nearly had a heart attack!”

 “Oh, I watched his tracking anklet wander around June’s building, and then another one…I didn’t know what he was doing! He told me he was bored, so he climbed around the outside of these buildings, huge, some of them. Hundreds of feet above the hard concrete. He wasn’t stealing, just practising – and yes, if he keeps in practice he can then use the skill for stealing, or escaping from a crime scene. He told me he base-jumped off a very high building once…basically strapped a kite to his back and jumped off. I wondered if he had a death-wish, or had a mental block about dying. You know he’s childish, child-like in many ways? Children don’t think they’re going to die, either!”

 “He is still a mystery to you! That is why he charms you.”

 “I love him, Steel. Have for a long time, much longer than I knew. El saw it, joked that he was her worst competition, but that was probably at least in part because I am bad at flirting with women! I love him because he’s so smart, so skilled – but also he has a heart of gold. If he’d had the right upbringing…and I don’t know what part of his upbringing was bad or warped him…he could have put Leonardo…well, he could have become the greatest man in many fields that our planet has ever known or ever will know. It’s sort of sad, and yet — I can’t help thinking he has more fun being a criminal!       

          “I envy him. He’s done so much that I will never do. I have El, and a job I like, and a house…but sometimes on cold winter nights in the dark, I lie there and wonder, and I think I would have liked to have experienced at least a small part of what Neal takes for granted.”

“He makes very loyal friends. You, Mozzie, June, El…”

 “Yes. I would take a bet…had I anything to bet! …that at least half the females and about of a quarter of the males in your Keep are in love with him already, and many would risk their lives for him. Again, he could use that to his advantage, and will if he has to, but probably won’t and would never put them at much risk.”

 “It sounds as though I should be worried about a takeover!”

 Peter laughed. “No. He likes you. If he didn’t, he might get someone else in power here in some fantastically unlikely but legally indisputable manouevre that you would never see coming until you were outside the Keep walls looking in … but he and Mozzie would find being responsible for a Keep full of slaves incredibly boring. Being responsible for anything… _taking_ responsibility for anything, that’s their weak area.”

“But when he has mapped my keep and made friends with everyone, and forged all my paintings…then, he might cause trouble or escape?”

 “He might, if things get boring. Did he pull the flour prank?”

 “Peter, I have no idea! I thought he did, but – well – and if he did, it was because I was sort of watching the two of them, wondering what they were up to! So he gave me and the dogs something to find.”

 “It certainly sounds like Neal! And your instincts are correct, they usually are up to something…well, up to something, about to be up to something or just resting from having been up to something!”

 “So it is not because they are slaves?”

 “They would feel enslaved anywhere they couldn’t get up to something!”

 They trotted a bit, cantered on each rein, then slowed to a walk again. “So if it is just excess energy, Peter, could I give Neal a great deal of work?”

 “No, no, _no!_ I tried that. The problem is that then he’s not only bored – unless you can find _new_ things for him to do all the time – but resentful, too, because you’re punishing him, unfairly…he always thinks it’s unfairly. Then you _will_ have trouble. The man can go days without sleeping! You’ll find your guard tower rebuilt in the water-reservoir or something!”

 “So he is always up to something, but he wants to be loved and trusted?” Steel made tearing-his-hair motions.

 Peter laughed again. “Now that I’m not responsible for him, I can see things more clearly. He so wanted me to trust him and love him…me, El, June, Diana and Jones back home…but because of our work together, I never could. Many of the criminal things he did, as El pointed out, he did because he was being blackmailed by someone from his past, or something of that nature. And - though he won't see it, some of the time I wasn't just trying to control him, I was trying to protect him, too!

          “If I hadn’t been FBI, he could have come to me for help, and I think he would have. I _think._ I can never prove it, of course. But he couldn’t come and say, ‘Fred is blackmailing me because once I stole a painting he was after and now he’s making me steal other things for him,’ because then I’d have to arrest him for stealing the first thing _and_ the things he was stealing for Fred. Mozzie and June helped him sometimes by doing something to get rid of Fred that wouldn’t lead to Fred telling the FBI about the original theft. It was a Catch22 – a situation without a win. I couldn’t be a true friend and his handler, too.”

 “But now you can?

"The hostilities between the two of you are hardly a secret, Peter! I came upon you on the verge of a fistfight!”

 “If he’ll let me. El and I have been talking. I’ve let him down so often, called him a criminal so often…” He sighed.

“Thank you for your help, Peter.”

 “I’m not sure how it will help you.”

 “The situation is a little different. I am his handler, in a way, but I am also much freer than you were, more autonomous. He knows I did not turn …um those two slaves who came to the door?...I did not turn them in. I am assuming that you would have had to do so.”

“Legally, yes. I suppose I would have. I had to trust the system.”

 “The system that Neal and especially Mozzie trust not at all.”

 “Mmm, and the truth is, though I hate to admit it, it sometimes works and it sometimes doesn’t. I just didn’t want to see how often it doesn’t. You gave Mozzie a chance to spout out his theories the other night and you agreed with him, wholeheartedly. I have never listened, not properly. I would just jeer at him and shut him up. Having to listen, hearing you agree, I realised I just had so much invested in that system that I couldn’t question it. It’s hard.”

 

They entered the dim of the stables and dismounted, leading their horses to their stalls. Two teenagers ran up and took them to groom, grinning at Steel. Peter and Steel nodded their thanks and walked together.

 “When you go back, will it be easy for you to fit into your old life again?”

 “I’m glad you said, ‘when’, my Lord. And, you know, I don’t think it will be. I’ll go back to my job, we do good, we get rid of really bad guys, but there are some criminals out there, like Moz and Neal, who have better morals and principles than some of the law enforcement people. And I could leave White Collar crime and go after undoubtedly bad people, murderers and kidnappers and so on…but El hates my life as it is, and I have been in some life-threatening situations. I would be in more in a different division. I can move up, be in an administrative post, but the problem is, _I’d_ hate that! I’m an accountant, but I’m more than just a paper pusher and nursemaid to a bunch of…oh, I’m sorry. It’s all been on my mind a great deal!”

 “Coming here has opened your eyes, perhaps.”

 “Yes. I wish I’d never come, mind you. I was happier before.”

 “I am sorry, Peter.”

 “I know. I _shouldn’t_ have been happier, I shouldn’t have been so damn self-righteous when Mozzie tried to explain some things. I had experienced only the good the system does, or in the main I had.

          “But you know, I was talking to a Canadian once…the country to the north of us in the USA?... I was saying how lucky she was, that Canada has good health care and low crime rate and so on, and she said something like, ‘Our biggest problem is that we are told over and over that we live in the best country in the world. And if that’s the case, we don’t try and change it. And it may be, or not, I haven’t lived everywhere, but certainly some immigrants go back, saying their children are better educated at home, and that they can live better on less, our big cities are some of the hardest in the world to live in because the cost of housing is outrageous compared to the salaries normal people can earn…so we need to be making the country better, not sitting there saying we live in the best country on earth!’ That came back to me as I realised I haven’t bothered to change what may need change, because I haven’t been aware of that need.”

 Steel said nothing.

 “You, Lord Steel, young as you appear, are trying to change things you see as wrong, and I admire that. I will try and be the same, if and when we get to go back.”

 Steel grinned a little. “Thank you, Peter. Sometimes, I wish I could just sit by the fire and let my slaves bring me hot chocolate!”

 Peter wondered what drink or food the ear-bug had translated ‘chocolate’.

 

 

Steel tried to be reassured by his talk with Peter. Neal was just being Neal. He wasn’t going to leave – and, from what Peter said, he’d probably survive just fine if he did, with false papers and a new life. It would be a magnificent challenge for him!

 But Neal was perhaps not aware that escaped slaves were hunted down by groups of men who enjoyed hunting humans, enjoyed killing them, having dogs tear them apart. The idea was that the slaves were brought back alive and killed in the most heinous ways imaginable as a deterrent. Sometimes they did make it back, and that was worse than the packs of hunting dogs. So he was taking Peter's place in that he certainly wanted to protect Neal and Mozzie from such a fate!

 He, Steel, would never turn them in, but there were other ways of being found out, especially for people fresh from another planet. How Mozzie had survived without papers on this planet, Steel would never know. Many days passed while he thought about things when he had some free moments.

Then a runner came to Steel Keep and Lord Steel received a polite letter…but it was what Neal had spoken of as a warrant, thinly disguised. Finally the Military had worked their way round to checking Steel Keep for any of the escaped slaves. Now to see how well Neal’s forgeries and the disguises stood up on his second planet!

 Steel called all the Keep slaves together. The news would go to the farm workers and others not able to attend the meeting.

 “I am going to be holding a party. Can we pull this together by tonight? We have the Military coming to call, looking for two Earthling slaves, Jones and Diana as well as many – they have listed twenty-three, but there are probably more — other slaves from Serandon’s Keep.”

 There was a scared rustle. The slaves knew the Military. They were pushy and overbearing and often unfair. They were sometimes worse than Slave-Hounds, and from worse backgrounds. They were generally disliked and feared.

 Steel slaves had all heard stories when they spoke to other slaves, but had usually been safe, protected, behind Steel’s walls and his reputation. Now suddenly, they were going to be duelling with them, right here in the Keep!

 Steel knew the risks. His slaves might think that the danger was here because he had taken in Diana and Jones. Someone might think the problem would go away if they just handed them over. To his, Jones and Diana’s immediate detriment and then, sadly, the rest of the Keep, as well.

 “Pooh! A party with eight hours to prepare…nothing to it, my Lord!” Elizabeth called.

          “Absolutely!” June and Ophera added their voices, and there was an energy building.

 “We will need to show off our acrobats,” Steel said.

 “Who have been practising in costume for nearly a week!” Peter agreed.

 “But not just our acrobats!” Neal called. “This has to be an occasion! Steel, when’s your birthday, or the Founding of the Keep Day or something?”

 Steel was baffled. “Um…nothing around now.”

 “And they might have records,” Neal frowned. “I know – you’re a good-looking young Lord who needs an heir, what about a betrothal party?”

 “I think I should talk to Neal alone!” Steel shouted across the laughter and speculation.

 Neal, undeterred, said, “Anyone who can do anything…sing, dance, juggle, whatever – please tell El, she’s great at organising. Just keep a list and where we can find them, El.”

 “Oh, thanks! That’s all I have to do!” she shouted, waving her fist. He had turned, but waved at her over his shoulder.

Steel descended on Neal. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 “Well, my Lord, if you’re getting betrothed, then some, at least, of the Military will be sympathetic. You can be a little drunk…perhaps they can be persuaded to get a little drunk, too, because otherwise they would be offending a Keeper. There can be entertainment from anyone here who can entertain. The Military will be entertained and wined and dined and definitely less hostile than if we all just line up and look at them!

          “Persuade some of your Freemen friends to come! Make it a Thing!”

 Peter appeared and nodded. “Listen to him, Steel. We don’t know these people and how they operate, but if they find a Keep of apparently happy, slightly drunk people, they will be far less suspicious than if we are all alert and ready for their arrival. We aren’t worried, nothing to see here, no escaped slaves within these walls!”

 Neal was nodding and smiling.

“But I do not want to be married!” Steel heard himself say, with almost a whine in his voice.

“Well, call it off later!” Neal told him.

 “Our customs are not like that, Neal! I would be stuck with the girl who pretended I was – oh, even you saying it has caused rife speculation!”

 “You are young, attractive, healthy and you live in a castle, Boss Alien ,” Mozzie said, disgusted. “Surely you have some girl ready to marry you! Don’t you need heirs?”

 “I have a legal heir, Jarad. I have not found someone…well, I have not found my Elizabeth. And if I get betrothed, and call it off, her family has every right to call vengeance. It would be a terrible slight to the girl and her family.”

 Neal looked frustrated. “That’s awkward.”

“What else can we celebrate?” Peter demanded. “Damn, betrothal was perfect!”

 “Hey, hey, go and bed a wench you did not love you would not! Assume I have the same misgivings! It was not even permanent with you!”

 “Well, give us something else!” Mozzie declared.

 “How about a child, Master Caerrovon?” Brak asked. They all turned to look at him. He cleared his throat gruffly. “The whole idea of an heir. You have not acknowledged an heir of your body, Master. You have Jarad, but he is not from Steel Keep at all, originally. What about announcing that you have been told that there is a baby going to be born out of wedlock. An heir to Steel Keep.”

 Steel looked a little less horrified by this prospect, but only just. “With whom?”

 “Um, Thista, my Lord. She is pregnant, about a fifty-day.”

 “It is not mine!” Steel avowed earnestly to the interested audience, like a protesting Earthling teenager to his father, Diana thought with a grin.

 “She will say it is, for her Lord,” Brak told him.

 “Oh, but – what about her – her – the baby’s father?” Steel asked, despairingly.

 “If you would not go round collecting slaves by the wagonload, you would know that she is waiting to be betrothed to Shimon, and it is no trouble, he is your man till death, Master. And I did hear that he was bemoaning the fact that he would never be able to give Thista a home of their own, Master (her family were farming folk before the great drought took the North country), and there is that little cottage down by the forest, empty since the gameskeeper died.”

“Of cold, the stubborn old goat!” Steel argued. “I will not give them that ice-box! I like Thista and Shimon!”

 “A _lot!”_ Neal said, softly. “ ’Specially Thista!” Steel swung at him as Neal ducked, but couldn’t reach over the many heads between them.

 “It could be made very nice, Master,” Brak insisted. “At least you could offer and then they could come back to a suite in the farm quarters if they were to find it too uncomfortable. You could make that plain at the outset.”

 “And when the baby is born with Shimon’s black hair and eyes, I shall be a laughing stock!” Steel argued.

 “It will be told that Thista lost your child and that later Shimon’s took, Master,” Brak told him. “You will have to pretend grief for some period.”

 “So will the obviously pregnant Thista!”

 “No-one will see her…she and Shimon will be happily messing about in the little house you have given them!”

 “I am being married off, or fathered off, or something - !” Steel complained.

 “And it couldn’t happen to a more deserving fellow!” Peter grinned hugely.

“I hate you, Peter Burke, and do not think to ever get Neal in the dungeon now! And who is going to break the news to Thista and Shimon… I suppose it is I!”

 “Well, Lord Steel, write some invitations to your Freeman friends, send off runners with them and go do your duty. We have a party to organise!” Neal grinned.

“He may yet!!” threatened Steel, obscurely, though Neal chuckled, understanding full well.

 

When Steel came back, appeased by the obvious pleasure the two took in falling in with his plans, the Greatroom was bedlam. The curtains and separators between it and the huge ballroom had been removed to make one gigantic room. Neal and a group of the younger slaves were hanging decorations, something they apparently did on Earth when babies were due. Mozzie was making a list, dressed in his newest and nicest suit. Lucilla and her rather large retinue were draping cloth, partly at Neal’s direction and partly at her own, and they were arguing back and forth. Everything was in shades of blue…Mozzie told him he was having a boy, which was probably better for Keep-holding, and what that had to do with anything he couldn’t imagine.

 “Elizabeth,” Peter announced, loudly from the corridor, “needs eggs. A lot of eggs.”

“And I need wine and do you have any spirits? I need to make punch and something horrible resembling punch with no alcohol, because we cannot have any of your slaves who cannot hold their drink actually getting drunk and spilling the beans!” Mozzie said to Steel, who just stared at him in utter befuddlement, wondering if the ear translators were working at all.

 “Punch? Beans? I am not sure I – ”

 “Um, so no-one has made punch…a mixture of fruit-juice and – oh, do you have anything stronger than wine?”

 “Stronger…”

 “Something that would make people drunker quicker than wine,” Mozzie tried, getting exasperated.

 “Brak can get you something from the cellar…”

 “There’s nothing in the cellar but wine!” Mozzie told him. “And not so much of that!”

 “Oh…no, it was all taken out to the cellar under the barns when we had a bit of water damage in summer…someone can go. But beans I do not have. Does Ophera? What does Elizabeth want with beans?”

 Mozzie stared at him blankly. “No idea, Alien Chief.”

 “But you wanted beans, someone had dropped them.”

 “Your fatherhood hormones are wasting your brain, Alien! I want to make punch.”

 “But I have done nothing to you.”

 “No, no, a fruit drink with wine, well, one with alcohol, mainly for the Military, and one without, mainly for your slaves at least until the Military have gone. Maybe after…can we trust them to actually leave? At least four people will be assigned”…he made a note and underlined it…"to count them when they arrive, and again when they leave and two more on the roof to watch if any sneak around the place from outside.”

 Steel looked at him and walked away, feeling that his ongoing sanity was at stake.

  ** _“EGGS!”_** Peter bellowed, and some older children grinned and ran off to get them.

 “Now where’s Pila and Pey?” Neal was demanding. “They were here a minute ago! Joster, have you seen them? I want all the musicians! Yat, can you play a tune by ear?”

 June was standing calmly, smiling, watching Neal. Steel went up to her, hoping that she was the island of calm that she looked. She smiled gently at him and nodded her head at Neal. “He’s just having such a good time!”

 “Yes. I fear our Keep was becoming far too dull without murderers crashing through the door and little, thin, starving men squeezing themselves bloodily into his bedroom.”

 “I shall need a bigger room, my Lord, if he brings me more paintings.”

 “That is where they are going, is it?”

 “He’s brilliant, but it’s getting a little silly.”

 “I want those. Choose whatever you wish, Lady June, and I will remove the others as evidence!”

 June chuckled. “You sound like Peter.”

 “I am _becoming_ Peter, frightening as that sounds. No, I just want some real Earthling art if I get you home! I wish he would paint some originals.”

 Mozzie’s voice rang out, loudly, talking to Neal, as they walked past. “You need to tell them when to do it, you do it better than me!”

 June went on, “Not enough confidence, I think. And they wouldn’t sell as well as aged paintings from well-known Old Masters, as we’d call them, so his time would be wasted.”

 “Ah, I see!” They smiled at each other. It occurred to Steel that June’s eyes were a little sad.

 Neal appeared in a bound. “June…are you all right without accompaniment? I never thought, but their music is very different to ours! They are not going to pick up our tunes easily.”

 “If I can have some back-up singers, Neal,” she told him.

 “Who?”

 “Well, you for one. You sing very nicely.”

 “I can’t sing with you! You’re a legend.”

 “I thought you were, too?” she challenged, mischievously.

 “Well, yes – but not for my voice!”

 “You will sing. Go and get Peter and El and Caleb and Elijah. I have heard them singing Christmas carols, they sing perfectly adequately. We need to set a programme.”

 Neal obeyed. He loved and respected June. And he knew his voice wasn’t shabby, just not wonderful. He didn’t like to display any talent that wasn’t wonderful (which is one reason he shied away from doing original art work, especially paintings), but for her, he would do it. But there was some dissention in the ranks of the other Earthlings.

 “June, dearest June,” Elijah told her, “I cannot sing!”

 “Me, neither!” Caleb told her, nervously, shaking his head.

 “What rubbish! Ain’t no black person born in all the history of the Earth that cannot sing, unless he or she has been involved in an accident!” June waved aside their objections. “And since neither of you have, you’ll sing or you _will_ be involved in a _serious_ accident! Do you understand me, boys?”

 “Yes, ma’am!” they both responded, instantly and respectfully.

 “Good!” June told them.

 Peter looked horrified at the thought of singing in public but after that, he said nothing, black or not! June seldom came on that strong!

 Steel wondered how exactly she did that. What a useful talent!

 “I can help!” Mozzie said, appearing from somewhere, strumming a little lyre-like instrument. “I’m not very proficient, but I can help!”

 Neal groaned, “I ukulele, Moz? Really? With fifties jazz?”

 “It’s the only thing I think I can manage to play Earth tunes on yet. It’s not my fault the Evil Alien Military are impatient! I am working on something much more useful, but I can’t do it alone, with few resources and in very little time!”

 “Thank you, Moz, I’m sure it will be lovely,” June told him. “Most of the songs I was thinking of pre-date the fifties, actually.  And boys, remember, these people don’t even know what it’s supposed to sound like, and for all we know would hate the originals and saxes and basses!”

 “How do you know any tunes, Mozzie?” Jones asked.

 “I may have glanced over some of June’s sheet music from time to time when she went to collect the coffee.” Mozzie did his best nose-in-the-air innocent look.

 “No-one in the universe would hate saxes, basses, good piano, June Ellington, Ol’ Blue Eyes and Dino, no-one!” Neal declared. “But they’ll have to make do with June Ellington, us, and a hero on a ukulele.”

 Feeling redundant and completely out of his depth, Steel went to get ready. Brak was helping him, talking non-stop. “I do not know whether to be annoyed with you, Master Caerrovon, for putting us in the terrible position and being forced to let the Military enter and search if they choose, or delighted that you have acquired such interesting Earthling slaves! Do you know, I heard in the Marketplace that most people will not touch them, many are much too independent and will not submit to discipline?”

 “I am not sure,” Steel said, threading his gold chains through his knot cincture with care, and settling his ornate court jacket on his shoulders, “that anyone would guess by observation that the Earthlings we have at Steel are anything but independent and ill-disciplined. Did you find out if anyone other than Neal had anything to do with the Flour Incident?”

 “No-one seems to know anything about it. The meat was in the cold room, Master, but it is locked after Ophera uses it, as it has a tendency not to close properly, so she locks it. I assure you that Ophera had no part in that prank!”

 “And Neal says there is no lock he cannot pick! All the evidence say it was his handiwork, and I have no proof!”

 “Would you..um…”

 “Would I throw him in a cell with hungry rats if I knew it was he?” Steel shook his head. “I merely dislike having a slave, a _new_ slave, outwit me so completely. Peter has built up some aggression towards him because of the same, quite natural, feelings. As El told me, his ability to make people love him is a survival skill. I agree! Without it I am sure he would be dead! Very dead!”

 Brak laughed. “He is lovely to have around. He makes people happy, he makes people feel good about themselves. That is what makes us love him…because he makes us like ourselves more.”

 “Very profound, Brak! Is my hair sitting well?”

 “You look perfect for the occasion, Master.”

 “Thank you, Brak. Stay close, tonight!”

 “I will, Master Caerrovon. I have all our very best people standing by, as though part of your honour guard, and also amongst the waiters and waitresses. If we have to, those Military are going to quietly disappear into the far fields. They could do with some feeding, there is so much water-flow there, nutrients are washed away.”

 “How bloodthirsty, Brak!”

 “I know you like to keep your …hobby, did you call it? …to evil Slavers and Slavehounds, but some of the Military are little better, and if they come against us, they will lose.”

 “Let us hope that our interesting Earth slaves, who seem to see this as a chance to enjoy themselves hugely, will keep our swords and daggers sheathed. It makes me believe that they must have all lived very interesting and exhilarating lives, if being raided by a dangerous and well-armed Military intent on putting some of them to death is merely an excuse to decorate and eat and sing!

          “ Where is my ceremonial dagger? Oh, you cleaned it beautifully! The rubies never looked so bright!”

 “And your sword and sash, Master.”

 “Thank you, Brak. Let us not break any heads tonight unless absolutely necessary!”

 

 When Steel and Brak came back into the Greatroom. he was startled to find that all his slaves had left! The decorations seemed complete: long tables for food and drink, glasses and plates and everything but the food and drink and people!

 The blue fabric draped here and there, creating little nooks nearer the walls. Up one end were two blue-draped ‘thrones’ – apparently for Thista and himself, with tables and chairs for his Freeman guests close by. There were plants in large containers around the walls, too. Instruments were collected in one place on a raised platform and there was another raised part near the two thrones for other performers. Chairs of various sorts were soldier-like by the walls and making little circles here and there out of the way, for people to talk. Candles and lights were glittering everywhere.

 Then suddenly the slaves started appearing, all in their best party finery, all with their slave-collars firmly locked. They were all laughing and happy. If this was a fake party, they were going to make the most of it…it was going to be the most fun anyone had experienced in a long time. He felt suddenly remorseful: he had been avoiding any big occasions such as this because he had been too engrossed in his crusade and that wasn’t fair to his loyal and hardworking slaves, after all!

 Then Thista and Shimon appeared, even more jewel-bedecked than the rest. Lucilla must have been working overtime! He went over to them quickly, bowed over her hand, smiled and said, “Thank you so much, again!”

 “This is going to be such fun!” Thista exclaimed. “Oh, do I get to sit here? Oh!”

 “And I am to sit here, I believe. Shimon, can you sit by my side, do you think? Everyone knows Thista is nearly betrothed to you, there is nothing untoward about her doing her duty by her Lord.”

 “I would that it were true, my Lord Steel,” the handsome, dark-haired man said.

Suddenly everyone was talking, laughing, the local musicians were messing about and started to play some dance tune, and the younger members got on the floor and started a country-dance.

 “You don’t have a butler?” Mozzie asked at Steel’s elbow. “Someone to usher in the guests, make introductions?”

 Steel shook his head. “I have not entertained on any scale, Sir Mozzie, I do not have a butler.”

 “Yes, you do,” Neal appeared in his grey suit. “I will do the honours, my Lord. And Brak was right, you look handsome and regal in those clothes!”

 “Thank you, Neal!” Steel grinned at him.

 “And I am joining your protection detail, for the moment,” Peter said. He was wearing his green suit, accompanied by El, dressed in rose pink but swathed in a huge apron-thing to keep her clean while she continued in the kitchen.

 “Yes, don’t underestimate him, my Lord, his swordwork is not brilliant, yet, but his powers of observation and analysis are second to none, and his hand-to-hand skills are excellent!” Jones said, nodding. He was already dressed as Caleb, in full performance attire.

 “And don’t forget his famous Gut!” Elijah added. The Earthlings chuckled.

 Elizabeth kissed Peter for good luck. “I hope there’s enough food!” she was worrying. “There’s all the pies we made, we can bring them in afterwards, Ophera, if we’re running short.”

 “Bring them in when the soldiers arrive,” Neal ordered.

 “But Neal – savoury first, surely!”

 “Mix it up…have them, then some savoury, go back to sweet…carbs are calming and most men love pie, at least at home. We want to lure them into joining the party, at least on the fringes!”

 “Does everyone know which punch who drinks?” Mozzie demanded.

 “I think so,” Neal answered him. “Just so long as we don’t make it too obvious! I’m going to open the doors and be ready to greet guests…Lord Steel, can you be ready to join me when the first ones arrive?”

 “Yes, Neal,” Steel nodded, humbly, not really knowing what was going on and feeling a little like one of those pieces on the board Mozzie had made to play some battle-game on….chest, he thought it was called.

 “This is so exciting!” Thista exclaimed. “My life has been far too dull till now.”

Neal turned and gave her a dazzling thousand-watt grin, knowing exactly what she was feeling. It was meat and drink to him!

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 10

 

 

 

Comments and criticisms, please...!! _(Please?)_

 


	11. Facing the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can the Earthlings con the Military, or will it lead to a sword-fight in the Keep?

 

 

 

          The first guests to arrive were Lord and Lady Betchem, some of Steel’s father’s friends, and Neal introduced them in true High Society fashion to the room and Steel took them over and got them some punch and snacks and then there were a large family, more of Steel’s friends, then another and another, and it became quite hectic.

           It was only when the party was in full swing that the Military put in an appearance. Neal bottlenecked the door and introduced them one my one, name and rank, which made them feel important and gave Mozzie, whom Steel could see behind a large plant, the chance to take detailed notes. Not, apparently, that Mozzie needed notes, but if he wasn’t around they would be useful. Joster and Pey were also counting and marking on their hands. Steel stood and went to greet the Captain.

          “Thank you for joining us,” Steel said, leading him into the room. “This is the lady carrying the next Steel of Steel Keep!”

           The soldiers were set off-balance by this, and roughly congratulated Lord Steel and Thista.

           “Come and have some pie, Captain,” Steel insisted, smoothly, and before he knew it, the large man was enjoying a delightful fruit pie, and someone handed him a glass of punch, and then the faces of all his men lit up with glee and they helped themselves, too. None of them had actually been part of a fancy party, let alone been waited on by servants of some muckity-muck high-and-mighty, who was obviously so delighted with his heir that he was treating them with respect, not thinly veiled disgust, as was more usual!

           Steel shook his head. Bad discipline! How would they draw their weapons when their hands were full of plates and glasses? Not that he was complaining, it was in their best interests, tonight! He shared a look with Leran, who shrugged a little.

          The local band started up again, and the next dance swept across the floor. The Military Personnel watched in delight as they consumed more pie.

           Steel walked back and made sure that Thista was being looked after, and scanned the crowd. Neal, was playing up his rôle as butler. He gestured to this slave and that, and all of them made sure, between dancing and enjoying themselves, that the food was re-filled, the drinks flowed, his special guests were looked after…Neal himself seemed to take special care of the Military. Steel wasn’t exactly sure what Earth butlering entailed, but he was fairly confident it didn’t usually involve adding some liquid out of a flask to the soldiers’ drinks without one of them noticing while he was apparently asking them if they had everything they required!

           Elizabeth appeared with some kind of trifle in a huge glass bowl, and Tamlin and Shiral each had another. Younger slaves with bowls and spoons followed each. They prettily went and offered this dessert to all the important guests. Elizabeth went down the row of soldiers, making play with her big blue eyes and looking sad if one of them didn’t take enough. Steel was beginning to see why Peter found some of his life stressful!

           Peter himself leaned down and whispered in Steel’s ear, “That’s three different types of spirit the soldiers have ingested, to say nothing of some mysterious herbs Ophera added to the stuff in Neal’s flask.”

           Steel bit his lip and stood and went over to the line of soldiers. “Captain, I believe you wish to see our paperwork, something about some missing slaves?”

           “Indeed, my Lord Steel, that is why we are here!” the man said, standing straighter.

           “Well, no need for you to be put to any trouble. I will have each and every one of my slaves come here to you. They are all in attendance to celebrate this glad occasion.” He clicked his fingers and summoned Neal. “Could you get all the farm slaves to come, single file, and show themselves and their collars and their paperwork to the Captain?”

           Steel had stretched the truth a little: there were watchmen around the Keep, people keeping an eye on the animals, and four young girls on the ramparts, specially picked by Mozzie for their good eyesight and brains, to lean over and make sure that no Military sneaked round the Keep and tried any tricks!

          “Immediately, my Lord Steel!” Neal clicked his heels, and a line of the farm-workers started making their way past the Military. The Captain looked into each face, looking for darker skin tones and at each set of papers. This was easier than going from room to room, he thought. He was warm and well-fed and the slaves were respectful and organised. Why couldn’t all Keeps be this way?

           After another few dances, in which Steel took part, leading Thista onto the floor and really enjoying himself, trays of savoury snacks made their appearance. Steel noticed that some of his soldiers did make rather bulky, but efficient serving men. Who would have thought of it?

           He was laughing at something that Shimon had said, keeping one eye on the line of slaves passing before the soldiers. Unhappily, the Captain was doing his very best to be thorough. Since they weren’t really needed as muscle, his contingent were eating, drinking and taking pleasure in the view of grand couples dancing, and many young girls in pretty ball-gowns, much less modestly covered than usual. Steel noticed Tamlin and Shiral, Pila and Whim dancing a circle together. About eight more of Lucilla’s apprentices had dragged her onto the floor and were dancing with her. Everyone looked happy. His old friends stopped by one by one to chat and congratulate him and Thista.

  _If the Military see through this I will be surprised!_ Steel thought. _But the true test is when Caleb and Elijah go up with their papers. They are so noticeable! At least by then, if Neal and Mozzie have planned it properly, the Captain will hardly be seeing straight._

          Despite the concern in the back of his mind, Steel found the evening more delightful than any for many long years!

           Then the band went quiet, the dancers left the floor and found food and drinks, and June, looking regal and lovely, walked to near the little stage and curtseyed very low to Steel and Thista and his special guests. Then Neal, now dressed in his ruby suit and Peter in his burgundy joined her, as did Caleb and Elijah, dressed in their super-hero costumes, as Neal called them, including capes. They bowed to Steel, and Neal mounted the little stage and said, his clear, light voice carrying in the stone room,

 

          “Lady June Ellington!”

 

          There was some clapping, the soldiers appeared ready to be entertained, Steel’s guests seated themselves at their tables around him.

 

          June stood there, chin up, smiling and the other Earthlings – other than Elizabeth, probably still fussing in the kitchen — climbed up behind her.

           “I know not how the translators will handle singing, but even if we can just hear her voice…” Steel muttered to Lord Betchem.

           June started singing a song all about a ‘Pretty Baby’, smiling at Thista. The others hummed gently in the background. Steel’s eyebrows went up in surprise. The translators were carefully giving him the words in Sheel, but always just before or after the singer’s voice, not affecting his enjoyment of the beautiful tones. How did they know to do that?

          He found his mouth was open. He had never heard June sing before. He had been schooled in music, and though this wasn’t one of the local classical styles, he was very aware of her talent, the beautiful roundness of her voice and the training that had gone into her delivery.

          Then Neal and June started singing a song Neal announced was called, “The Tennessee Waltz”, which sounded gorgeous to Steel, with the leelt – what Neal called the ukulele — blending surprisingly nicely. After the first part, Neal stepped down, helped June and took her in a close hold. Peter caught El, now resplendent in her rose dress without the apron, and Caleb took Lucilla’s hand and Elijah caught hold of Tamlin and, to the light sounds of the leelt, they danced a twirling dance around the room, to the delight of the crowd, who had never seen dancing such as this! The footwork was so precise, the flowing, emotional, romantic movements captured their imaginations.

           Neal and June went back to the platform for the second verse, a little out-of-breath, and the others danced on. They sang another verse, and then the dancers all changed partners smoothly and Peter was dancing with Lucilla, well suited to her height, Caleb was partnered with June, and Neal and El did a spectacular exhibition dance for the crowd, her skirt swirling out around them. Everyone was smiling, the dancers and the audience all. Then June and the others finished the song.

             Then they took a short breather while the local band…which Neal called the Steel band and laughed every time he said it for some reason…played a few country dances and, inspired by the Earthlings, many of the slaves and even a few of the soldiers joined in. The Captain, however, was somewhat laboriously focussed on papers and slave-faces. Neal glanced over at Steel with concern.  

           Then the band played some light music and many of slaves went round the crowd: jugglers, tellers of funny and interesting stories, someone was making flowers out of paper, another was walking on stilts, eight young girls were doing amazing things with two skipping ropes, jumping in and out, taking turns, faster than the eye could follow. Steel was surprised,.. he’d known they did these things for fun, but hadn’t realised how good they were.

          Then he noticed Neal – it had to be Neal, from the slender build - now dressed all in black with a black cape and a hat, with a half-mask beneath, was doing magic tricks right in front of people, making small objects disappear (and just perhaps reappear), doing tricks with a set of some card-things and guessing what people were holding in their hands. People’s eyes, especially some of the younger soldiers, were huge! Inebriation was probably not helping them see what he was doing!

 

 _At least, by now,_ Steel thought, _we can take them easily if anything turns nasty. Other than the Captain, I think the school children could take them!_

 

          The band played another dance tune while the performers withdrew.

  _  
_

Neal, again dressed in deep pink, announced a song called, _I'm in the mood for love_ , and all of them sang it happily together.

_I'm in the mood for love, simply because you're near me,_

_Funny, but when you're near me, I'm in the mood for love._

_Heaven is in your eyes, bright as the stars we're under,_

_Oh, is it any wonder? I'm in the mood for love._

_Why stop to think of whether, this little dream might fade? let's put our hearts together,       now we are one, I'm not afraid._

_If there's a cloud above, if it should rain, we'll let it, but, for tonight, forget it, I'm in the  mood for love._

_Why stop to think of whether, this little dream might fade? let's put our hearts           together, now we are one, I'm not afraid._

_If there's a cloud above, if it should rain, we'll let it, but, for tonight, forget it, hope   you're in the mood for love._

 

Then Neal announced, with much enthusiastic drumming from Yat in the band, the team of acrobats, newly arrived from the Planet Earth, part of a large family of acrobats, the Sparkling Starr family…Caleb and his son, Elijah.

 There was a long burst of clapping, and everyone cleared a large space in the centre of the room. Neal and Peter moved so they were closer than the rest, but not close enough, in Steel’s opinion. He hated to see them work over the hard stone, but there wasn’t much choice.

 

Caleb and Elijah stalked proudly onto the open ‘stage’. They arrogantly flung off their capes (caught and quickly removed by Whim and Sealth) to reveal the apparently skin-tight costumes, eye-catching in intertwining shapes of black and silver, with fringing and sparkling here and there. There was a deep silence as they started their routine. It was made up of a series of ever-more precarious and difficult, suspensefully-slow balance-lifts, incredibly tiring, interspersed with lightning-fast flips and spins, the complex designs on the costumes making it hard, at times, to tell which muscular body was which. Caleb was the anchor round which the smaller body rotated and somersaulted, and sometimes it seemed as though his feet were growing from the floor, he had to be so strong and secure, and the pairing seemed so impossible to balance.

 

The only sounds were the gasps and indrawn breaths of the crowd, sometimes a foot slipping over the stones as Caleb reset his stance…and hard clapping when hand gestures from the two at a pause in the programme invited applause.

 They held everyone’s attention completely, and at the end, when they both bowed over and over, they received loud and excited praise from the spectators. Caleb clapped his son on the shoulder and said, “Well done, Elijah, well done son!” and they hugged briefly.

 Then there were some more country dances, and Elijah lead Tamlin onto the floor and was very obviously flirting with her. Caleb was watching, frowning a little. Steel grinned again.

           “My friend,” Lord Camber said in Steel’s ear, “I know not when I have enjoyed anything more! Where did you find this acrobat team? Will you sell them…or at least lend them to me for my daughter’s wedding in the Spring?”

           “They are not for sale,” Steel laughed, dodging the unanswerable question. “I too am impressed…they have been keeping their routine a closely guarded secret!”

           “And the food, Caerrovon!” the Lord’s wife went on, “so many new tastes and textures. I did not know you did yourself so well! You do not entertain nearly enough, boy!” Neal, walking past, heard and winked at Steel.

           “I may have to do more of it in the future, Lady Camber. I am glad you have enjoyed it all.”

           “Indeed…and all three of our children want to learn that amazing Earth dance! I am not sure I approve. But I suppose it is no use trying to stop them now!”

           “Not if Bethy is getting married – she will just wait and learn when she has her own household,” Steel chuckled. “And then teach her sister and brother!”

 There was more dancing and much more eating and drinking. Neal came over and said, quietly, “I think the soldiers are out of play if it comes to a fight. The Captain is remaining at his post, but I think his sight may be a little blurred.”

           “We can only hope!”

           “Elijah is doing his best to – er – cement his alias,” Neal noted. Elijah and Tamlin were snuggled together in one of the few large chairs left free for the slaves, and they were kissing.

 Steel sighed.

           “What, Lord Steel?”

           “Tamlin was one of the girls of my Keep of whom I could easily have become more fond, Neal. It is pleasant to have mind-to-mind contact. But it looks as though…”

          “Yes, I think, as Peter once told me, no dancing for you.”

           “Not that it would have changed anything; at least now I know and will not make a fool of myself.”

           “I’ll take it that you are finding a silver-lining to a cloud, my Lord. I am sorry.”

He slipped away.

           “Oh, look, that lovely Lady June is going to sing again!” Lord Betchem said, enthusiastically.

 

June was looking for Neal. Across the room, he noticed and pointed at his chest and she made ‘get over here’ movements. He had been slipping more liquor into the Captain’s glass, and had to ditch his flask in a plant behind the soldiers and go over. Steel was very amused by all the entertainment, some of it surreptitious!

 Mozzie appeared to play, standing behind them, while June spoke very softly to Neal, who shook his head sharply twice before acquiescing with obvious reluctance. Then the two stood quite still for a long moment, took each other’s hands and then sang as though they were alone in the room, slowly, their hearts in their voices and their eyes:

 

          I'll be seeing you in all the old, familiar places  
          That this heart of mine embraces all day through  
          In that small cafe, the park across the way  
          The children's carousel, the chestnut tree, the wishing well  
  
          I'll be seeing you in ev'ry lovely summer's day  
          In everything that's light and gay  
          I'll always think of you that way  
          I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new  
          I'll be looking at the moon but I'll be seeing you

 As the final notes faded, Neal took her in his arms and they were sobbing quietly together. Steel glanced up and saw tears on the faces of Peter, El, and Caleb, too. Mozzie was wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. Steel could hear sniffing from all over the crowd. One of the younger soldiers, apparently reaching the melancholy drunk stage, was weeping openly!

What talent he had found, what a wonderful chance meeting in the slave market!

Neal stood away from June, and even from where he was sitting, Steel could see the glisten of tears on their cheeks. Neal brushed them off his face, then carefully took a kerchief and dabbed them off hers, smiled into her eyes and whispered something. She bit her lip, looked down for a moment and when she looked up, she was smiling.

Neal swung his arm round, drawing attention and calling to the other Earthlings, who hurriedly moved over, and said, his voice ringing with challenge, “Now we will all sing ‘Let’s face the Music and Dance!’ ”  

Peter, declining to join them, leaned down beside Steel and hissed at him, “How ả propos! How – how right! This should be Neal’s – and perhaps June’s, too — theme song!”

Steel listened to the words as June and Neal sang, smiling at each other this time, the two acrobats humming along, and singing a tune that wasn’t the same, but complemented the first.

 

          “There may be trouble ahead  
          But while there's music and moonlight and love and romance  
          Let's face the music and dance!  
          Before the fiddlers have fled,  
          Before they ask us to pay the bill, and while we still have that chance  
          Let's face the music and dance!  
          Soon, we'll be without the moon, humming a different tune - and then...  
          There may be teardrops to shed  
          But while there's music and moonlight and love and romance  
          Let's face the music and dance !”

 

Steel chuckled at Peter’s comment. It could be the theme song of the evening, in fact!   They repeated the second verse, and then curtseyed and stepped down. Neal and June went off together, holding each other tightly.

Elijah, with Tamlin in tow, their papers in their hands, went up and bowed politely to the Captain. Everyone in the know watched, as subtly as possible. The Captain looked at the papers, smiled at Elijah and said something to him and he bowed, smiled back and the two went off together.

While the local Steel band played and a few young people who still had enough energy – a lone soldier amongst them — danced, Neal, Caleb, El, Peter and June also took their papers to the Captain, and Steel could see that he was chatting to them while he glanced at their papers, and they were nodding and bowing or curtseying in response.

          “A moment, please?” Steel said to his special guests, leaned in and said, “I will not be away for long, my dear,” to Thista, and went over to the Captain.

          “Well, Captain, I believe you have inspected all the papers of all my slaves and I am afraid some of them, especially the very young and the rather older, will be wanting to make their way to bed. How do you want to conduct the search of the premises, Captain? I will have my people accompany you, to make sure your good name is maintained.”

The Captain frowned a little, listening intently to Steel’s words. Then he glanced over his rather untidy group of soldiers, one dancing joyously with a thin serving slave, the rest leaning against pillars or the back wall, most still snacking and sipping at something.

          “Lord Steel, you have been most obliging and your slaves most helpful and pleasant. It has been a very outstanding…remarkable…experience. I have no doubt that a search would be wearying for your household and unnecessary.” The Captain was trying very hard to appear part of the high-class society in which he found himself.

Steel nodded, regally, and Neal appeared, once again in his grey ‘butler’ suit, and said, smoothly, “You have graced us with your presence, Sir. Let us make sure that no-one ever can say that Captain Drdik does not do his full and perfect duty, as we all know you to do.” He calmly handed the Captain a sheet of paper clipped onto Mozzie’s note-book. Steel couldn’t see the writing, but the Captain took the pen and scribbled his name happily.

          “I will let your superiors know that you conducted yourself with the utmost professionalism, Captain, you and your men,” Steel nodded, and the Captain gathered his soldiers, not without a few glitches due to reluctance, and they made a brave effort to march in orderly fashion from the room.Three sets of eyes within the room, and at least four outside took note of numbers, faces and uniforms and made sure they did, in fact, leave!

As Neal closed the door and moved away from it, there was a collective sigh from the slaves.

          “Didn’t read what he was signing!” Neal commented out of the corner of his mouth, to Steel, without looking at him. “Sloppy!”

The dancing continued. There were still guests there, but they started to take their leave. Neal was handing Lady Betchem into her coat when Lord Betchem said, slyly, to Steel, “Tonight, the soldiers, the lovely performances …nothing to do with that little favour you required of me a short while back, dear boy?”

Neal remained completely impassive. He may as well have been a stone carving. Steel grinned a little. “Good friends are an invaluable commodity.”

          “No, no, commodities are traded, my dear boy. Friends are nurtured and preserved and hoarded. They can never be traded, as they are priceless.”

The door closed behind them and Neal’s grin burst through. Peter joined them, just as Neal said, “Very nice couple. Very astute. I have to say, though, he’s not always correct: in the right market it is amazing that things, previously thought to be priceless, can find a buyer.”

          “Allegedly,” Peter added, and the three of them laughed.

Once all of Steel’s Freeman guests had departed, June, much in demand for personal chats and accolades, started to leave, saying that she really needed to rest! Steel and Thista went over to her and Thista hugged her and Steel kissed her hand and said, “I am in awe, Lady June. As Neal would say, now a legend on two planets! It is not only the golden voice, the diction, it is the emotion you share with your audience.”

          “You are kind, Lord Steel, Thista. I will take my leave of you now, if it pleases you. Thank you.”

          “Thank _you_ , Lady June,” Steel said.

As she left, he turned to Thista and said, “You have been magnificent. I do not know what we would have done without you, my friend. Are _you_ not tired?”

          “A little, now, my Lord,” Thista acknowledged.

          “Shimon, you are a very lucky man. I still doubt the wisdom of your choice in taking the forest house, but there will be many hands to help you make it a little better! Take your wife-to-be home to rest!”

Soon, most of the farm slaves seemed to have departed and the rest were cleaning and sorting. “You should go through, Lord Steel,” El told him.

          “I should – I should go through and get out of this court dress. Even Lucilla cannot make it comfortable for this many hours and I would not ruin it! Brak! Attend me!”

Peter grinned at Mozzie, “Now that sounds like a Castle Keeper should sound.”

Steel returned and found that some of the farm slaves were doing the washing up, and the ballroom and Greatroom had been separated, much of the decorations were down and a small army of slaves with brooms were just finishing the final sweeping. Neal, his jacket suit discarded somewhere, leaned heavily on his broom-handle and said to Steel and Brak, “It couldn’t have gone off more smoothly could it?”

          “No. I cannot think how to repay all of you!” Steel said.

          “Let us all go to bed and we can clean up tomorrow,” Neal groaned. “It seems as though it’s nearly dawn!”

          “And if it wasn’t for our presence, if you remember,” Elijah said, coming up with Tamlin, “there would have been no concern about the stupid soldiers.”

Steel shrugged, forgetting that it was Serandon’s murder that started it all. “They would have come, anyway, and could have made themselves a nuisance. This was a very good way to get rid of the problem. And yes, let us all get some rest and re-join the battle tomorrow morning. Not too early! The tension has been a slight distraction from a wonderful evening. I would rather praise all the entertainers tomorrow when I have my wits about me.”

          “Good-night, Lord Steel!” the Earthlings said, the others said, “Good sleep!” and he replied with the same wishes, and left.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 11

 

Hope you're still enjoying it!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks and accolades to the following artists:
> 
> "I'll Be Seeing You" is a popular song, with music by Sammy Fain and lyrics by Irving Kahal.
> 
> "Tennessee Waltz" is a popular/country music song with lyrics by Redd Stewart and music by Pee Wee King[1] written in 1946
> 
> "Let's Face the Music and Dance" is a song written in 1936 by Irving Berlin for the film Follow the Fleet, where it was introduced by Fred Astaire and featured in a celebrated dance duet with Astaire and Ginger Rogers
> 
> "I'm in the Mood for Love" is a popular song. The music was written by Jimmy McHugh, the lyrics by Dorothy Fields. The song was published in 1935. 
> 
> (Info from Wikipedia)


	12. Assume a Mountain Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relief all round, but just as the Lord thinks he's beginning to comprehend these Earthlings, he causes a misunderstanding.

 

 

 

 

The next morning everyone was happily relaxed. All the Earthlings had reason to be very relieved, of course. There were plenty of delicious left-overs, and everyone was talking about June’s singing, the waltzing, the fun of fooling the soldiers. Steel was congratulated on his wonderful party, and felt that he had done very little: they had done it themselves! He had just dressed up and attended!

          He made a point of talking to June again, amazed by her skill and talent. Peter was teasing Neal within his hearing:

          “So, what did you pilfer from the pockets of a whole bunch of drunken soldiers? No, no, don’t give me that look, you couldn’t help yourself!”

          Neal said something and Peter’s voice rose a little, “So it was too easy? When has that stopped you before?”

          Steel glanced over to see Neal put his hands up, smiling mischievously, and back away from Peter. The problem was, _he_ now wanted to know what Neal had taken! Damn Peter, he would never have even thought about it, stupidly, considering that Neal was slinking about the soldiers, doing magic tricks to keep their eyes occupied and quite easily tipping liquor into their punch without them suspecting…

          He stood and Neal nodded at him. “Was there any particular reason you kept changing clothes, last night, Neal?”

          “Just a little misdirection, my Lord.”

          “And gave himself a chance to take the contents of the pockets back to his room and stash them while filling up the next pockets!” Peter suggested.

          Neal looked horrified. “Peeter, you may not care how your clothes sit, but having bulging pockets is just..”

          “…temporary, if you get back to your room often enough!” Peter laughed.

          Neal smiled, ducking his head.

          Steel thought that there probably wasn’t much in the pockets of low-paid Military, probably nothing worth keeping. “What did you get the Captain to sign?”

          “Mozzie’s idea…a written assurance that nothing had been found at Steel Keep after a full and extensive search.”

          “I would like to have that,” Steel nodded.

          “It’s already on the table in your study, my Lord.”

          “And the copies?” Steel enquired, gently.

          Neal laughed, and Peter nodded. “You’re catching on, my Lord!”

          “Answer me you did not, Neal.”

          “But there was only one page, you saw, my Lord,” Neal carried on backing, one step at a time.

          “I am on to you, as Caleb calls it! And where _are_ my brilliant acrobats?”

          “I’m here!” Jones came through, carrying a tray from the kitchen. “My son seems to have found himself some company, my Lord, and has not yet appeared.”

          “Tattle-tale!” Diana said from behind Steel, as she and Tamlin came through.

          “Oh, that glow of youth!” Neal murmured, and Diana hit him very hard with the side of her hand. He nearly fell. “Hey, that’s mean! You’re a trained acrobat, those hands are dangerous weapons!”

          “Remember it, sticky-fingers!” she told him

          “I think I’m going to…”

          “Stay right here,” Steel told him.

Neal raised his eyebrows a little and obediently came and sat down at the table.

          “Firstly, I just have to say a general thank you to all of my outstanding slaves…you pulled that party together, played the whole thing perfectly, duped the Military and kept us all safe.”

          Steel glanced around. He was beginning to notice things, since talking in depth to Neal, Mozzie, Peter and the others. He had never insisted on master-slave protocol and etiquette with these new slaves, or any new slaves, but they had generally absorbed – perhaps from the original slaves – a respectful demeanour. Neal from the first had kept his eyes down except for brief moments of trying to read Steel. All the others were verbally polite, and also not bold, other than Peter. Peter tended to glare if he was annoyed. He didn’t find a subordinate rôle easy, Peter.

          Of course, Steel thought, watching Neal, keeping the eyes down tended to keep secrets, too. Mozzie seldom met his eyes, either. None of them touched him, except when Neal was setting himself at Steel’s feet, an obviously submissive pose. Interesting. He had always taken such things for granted. Only during arms training, or in helping him with dress, or sometimes helping each other in a work situation did his slaves touch him.

          He sighed to himself. Ophera and Brak used to hug him when he was a boy, but otherwise this whole Keeper position was lonely. He saw Tamlin tuck her arm around Diana’s as they ate, and felt a pang of isolation. Perhaps that is why nobility wed, not just for the heirs, but to assuage the very real need for human contact. It wasn’t even sexual. He realised why he was suddenly so aware of his difference. Neal hugged Mozzie, Neal was hugged by Diana, the Earthlings held each other close and danced. Neal had stood in front of a roomful of people, taken June in his arms and sobbed on her shoulder. He found himself again becoming Peter and envying Neal.

          Mozzie came up and joined the group, sitting down at the table and reaching for tea.

          “I was just thanking everyone, Sir Mozzie,” Steel told him.

          “I haven’t had such fun for a long time, Number One Alien!” Mozzie grinned. “To have a captive audience upon which to inflict confusion was a delightful change. Not much of a challenge, to be sure, but it’s good practice.”

          “I asked Neal how many copies of Captain…”

          “Captain Drdik,” Mozzie supplied. “Neal said it when he entered.”

          “Yes, the certification of our innocence that he signed… how many copies did you two make?”

          Mozzie looked blank behind his glasses. “Neal – the Alien is right! We should have made copies! Have you given it to him already?”

          “It’s in his study, Moz,” Neal said, regretfully. Then his eyes opened wider. “But if we really need it, I’m sure Lord Steel will let us see it again, won’t you, my Lord?”

          Steel shut his eyes briefly. Peter grinned. El rolled her eyes. Jones and Diana shared a knowing wink.

          “Everything went smoothly,” Steel tried again. “My friends want me to loan you two out,” he indicated the acrobats, “and I have received three notes already about wanting to have June and her group to sing _and_ the acrobats to go through their routine at various events over the coming months.”

          “I suppose these requests are from friends, so you can’t charge them,” Neal said, wrinkling his nose a little, putting a dab of butter on a slice of toast. “And am I invited, and do we get to eat and drink the good stuff?”

          “Neal! Lord Steel will think you are completely mercenary!” June exclaimed.

          “Well, he has bills to pay…or feed to buy or whatever.”

          “I want to talk to you after breakfast, Neal,” Steel said, suddenly making up his mind.

          Neal glanced up, almost nervous. “I haven’t done anything you wouldn’t like, my Lord!”

          “Then why are you jumping to the conclusion that I am accusing you?”

          Neal widened his eyes and looked doleful. “People are always accusing me of something, my Lord. I may have come to expect it.”

          “Something there about a self-fulfilling prophesy,” Peter murmured in the background.

          Steel tried to concentrate on eating breakfast. These slaves were interesting, and difficult and exhausting, he decided. Probably more trouble than they were worth. Certainly more trouble than they were worth. Indubitably…

          By the end of the meal, Steel realised he had not taken into account quite a few problems with his idea. He wondered how to explain to Neal, but Neal had disappeared.

          Steel ‘looked’ for him, but Neal was ‘dark’. Steel was relieved, but also very angry. How dare his slave disobey him! He went off and harnessed his emotion well enough to, for once, best Leran.

 

         Neal was not at lunch. Steel found El and Ophera. “Did Neal take some food and go out?”

They both looked a little surprised. “No, my Lord,” El said. “I haven’t seen him.”

          “And Sir Mozzie?”

          “Um, last I saw, I think he was in the library.”

          Mozzie was poring over a book of maps. “Sir Mozzie, where is Neal?”

          Mozzie stopped, put a sheaf of papers with his notes as a book-mark in the atlas and carefully closed it. Then he took off his glasses and cleaned them, and put them back on. “Alien,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I do not own slaves, and I am not a slave. Therefore, I cannot see how your question can relate to me in any way.”

          “Sir Mozzie, he is your friend. Where has he gone? And why?”

          “I have not had the opportunity of speaking to Mr. Caffrey.”

          Steel sat down opposite him. “I am not ordering you to expose your friend. Last night he was stellar, brilliant, he filled all the gaps and made the whole party work. Between you, and with a great deal of help from others, you saved Caleb and Elijah and made my Keep safe. Why would Neal disappear and not even come to lunch?”

          “You said something, at breakfast. I think you spooked him.”

          “Spooked…?”

          “Like a horse, when it sees lightening, or a snake, or a mountain lion.”

          “But I said not one thing to scare him.”

          “He’s perhaps easily scared. Because of past events. It may be a stick on the ground, but he sees a snake, it may be a camera flash…oh, that doesn’t work. It may be a brown goat that he sees out of the corner of his eye, so he assumes a mountain lion.”

          “But - ”

          “If you are a horse and you see a brown goat and you run, there is no harm. None of the other horses think you’re weird or anything. But if you see what you think is a brown goat and you don’t run and end up dead up a tree because the brown goat was a mountain lion…” He was making gestures with a finger.

          Steel sat very still, thinking. Then he looked at Mozzie, who was looking directly at him, his face very still and serious.

          “He has been very difficult for you to look after, has he not?”

          Mozzie looked away. “I love him. He’s worth it. I wish he wouldn’t trust other people, they hurt him. Peter, El, Kate, so many people. Even when they have good intentions, they do him harm. Or perhaps he does himself harm. I know I cannot lock him away, Alien. It would kill him, like a plant in a basement. I just always try to be there to help when he’s hurt. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I can’t see it not happening for all of our lives.”

          “I am sorry, Mozzie.”

          “I play the hand I’m dealt.”

          “Mmm. If you see him, Sir Mozzie, could you tell him I am not angry with him. I have some ideas that I think he might enjoy.” Steel had forgotten the flash of very real anger he’d felt when he found that Neal had defied him.

          “If I happen to see your slave, Alien, I will tell him.”

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 12


	13. And now you have heard me threaten you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal surprises Steel, and is surprised in turn.

 

 

 

          Three days later, as the evening closed in, Steel found Neal sitting by the fire in the library, a heavy book on his knees, two more open by his side away from the heat. He didn’t look up as Steel walked over and sat on the other side of the hearth, stretching out his long legs and enjoying the warmth. There was a silence, broken only by the crackling of the logs.

          “I’m sorry, my Lord,” Neal eventually said, softly, apparently absorbed in the contents of a book he couldn’t read.

          “For what are you sorry, Neal?”

          Neal glanced up and then back down. “Anything?”

          Steel bent his furthest leg, patted his knee and said, “Sit.”

          Without looking at him, Neal carefully closed the books, piled them neatly, placed them on the small table away from the fire and sat on the library floor with his back to Steel’s shin. He brought his knees up and put a forearm on each and let his head drop forward.

          “Will you listen carefully to me, Neal?” Steel asked.

          “Yes, my Lord,” Neal whispered.

          “You are often mischievous and disobedient and your actions are sometimes of dubious legality.”

          “Yes, my Lord.”

          “I do not think for one moment you would hurt me or anyone in my Keep unless you perceived them to be a threat to others.”

          Silence.

          “I am not angry with you. I would prefer it if you did not disappear for days at a time. Have you been eating?”

          “Yes, my Lord.”

          “Can you tell me why you chose not to meet me after breakfast that day as I ordered?”

          Another pause, then, “I thought you were angry with me.”

          “Could you not have asked me if I was?”

          “I thought you were – I – you asked about the letter, then you sounded angry.”

          “And you could not have asked me if I was angry?”

          “Stupid to ask you if I thought you were angry. Perhaps you were. Better not to see you.”

          Steel remembered Peter saying this man was brilliant, but like a child in some ways.

          “Hmm. Neal, did you love your father?”

          “Yes, then no, then I hated him. He deserved hating.” It was a quick, unthinking response, an old decision.

          “Do you think it is possible that you are still trying to find him in other people?”

          Neal didn’t move. He said, quietly, “Mozzie has said often that I have daddy-issues.”

          “I think Mozzie is right. You went out of your way to charm Peter, and in some ways you are doing it to me. We’re men with power over you, and some measure of – of compliance is sensible. Perhaps more than you give! But you are wanting more out of the relationship than it can give you.”

          “You don’t like me, my Lord?”

          Steel winced. This is what trying to help emotionally unbalanced young men got you! “Indeed I like you.”

          “Just not very much.”

          “Neal, it has got nothing to do with how much I like you! Or how much Peter likes you – or other men before, I believe. You are looking for someone to respect you, to assure you that you are their good and beloved little son. To make up for your father, I suspect. You want them to cocoon you in their love and protection.”

          Now the silence was dreadful. Steel berated himself. He wasn’t good at this!

          Eventually Neal asked, “Isn’t that why people love? To be cocooned and protected and accepted and to do the same for another?”

          “Neal! There is nothing wrong with wanting love from a powerful and dominant male! We are all shaped by our pasts to prefer some types to others. But you must understand that if you need a man to come and take your father’s place, it is never going to happen. Unless, perhaps, someone uses that need in you, and that is just one danger.

          “You need to recognise that perhaps your father was not a nice person, or did not love and appreciate you, and that is not the worst thing that could happen to you, though it can create problems. It does not reflect on you.

"It causes problems when you are looking for someone in the present to fill a past deficit, because it cannot be done. It makes you vulnerable and leads you to make wrong decisions. Any kind of love can be a preference, but becomes dangerous if it is a need.”

          “I see.”

          “Neal, I do not think you do. You think I am saying I do not care for you or what happens to you.”

          “That’s part of it, isn’t it, my Lord?”

          “No. I care very much for you and what happens to you. I will not, therefore, allow you to become emotionally dependent on me.”

          Neal lifted his head, looked across the room at the shadows moving across the bookshelves. His energy detached itself from Steel’s, leaving him cold though the physical contact was still there. “Thank you, my Lord. May I go now?”

          “No, you may not go now!” snapped Steel, crossly.

          Neal settled again.

          “How many people have told you that your work is brilliant?”

          Neal shrugged. Steel had heard him brag about his work, his exploits, but he felt that it meant nothing much to Neal. That it was just some kind of armour.

          “So your father never told you your work was brilliant, and until he does…?”

          “I don’t care what my father thinks about anything!” Neal snarled. “I don’t know why I would want another father, my first was bad enough for heaven’s sake!”

          “Your head wants not a father, Neal. Your heart is bleeding for a father!” Steel moved his knee. “Look at me!” Neal shifted round, and he had tears in his eyes. Steel deliberately leaned over and tapped Neal’s chest. The unaccustomed touch startled Neal, as he meant it to do. “Here, in here! – _that_ is the only place acceptance and self-love and self-worth can come from. Everyone else’s opinion and acceptance will _always_ feel fake to you, until you find your own.”

          Neal gazed up at him, forgetting their relative estates. “I know that,” he whispered. “Steel, I know. But I don’t know how to feel good about myself.”

          “I can tell you how to start,” Steel smiled. “Stop asking others what they think, or inveigling their opinions by using your clever wiles. Start asking yourself what you think about your work, about what you are doing, about your actions or your words. The opinions of others matter little besides that. Rely not on things outside of yourself.”

          Neal leaned absent-mindedly against his knee again and chewed a nail thoughtfully. Then he said, “That seems a little lonely.”

          “Only until you develop your internal security. Then, and only then, can you have a stable, loving relationship with someone else, Neal, where you are sure you are not just looking for them to fulfil an old emotional need. It is not good to be leaning on each other. It is good if both are strong, but together.”

          “You’re saying it’s dangerous to base my relationships on wanting a particular type…”

          “As a need, a replacement for someone from your past. I shall give you an example. Let not my words sway you in the opposite direction, but here is something to consider. There is someone you have discounted to a large extent because he does not fit your powerful, dominant male image.”

          “Mozzie.”

          “Yes. I am not saying he is the special love of your life. I am saying that because he is not as tall and menacing – and therefore protective-looking – as Peter can be, you cannot really see how much he cares for you and how much he risks for you. I think you know that Mozzie is far more dangerous than Peter, except in a one-on-one physical confrontation, separated from his resources, so it is purely a perception on your part that Peter is more able to protect you. From what I can gather from your friends’ conversations, Mozzie would never have boarded that Slaver’s ship for Elizabeth if she had not first accepted and loved _you_ , made you feel as though you were a normal man, not a criminal.”

          After a pause, in which Neal had an instant's delicious image of Mozzie and Peter in a cage-fight, and put it away to think of at a time he could enjoy it, Neal asked, “You think I’ve become …fixated …a little…on you because Peter is so obviously totally consumed with Elizabeth?”

          “It could happen.” Steel noticed the intelligence, at odds with the emotional hesitancy.

          “So you wouldn’t let me stay when the others go?”

          “You would even _**consider**_ that?” Neal nodded. “Would Mozzie stay?”

          “Yes. If I asked him.”

          “Does Mozzie want to stay without you asking him?”

          Neal shrugged _I don’t know_.

          “Why would you want to stay? You are a slave here! You have no family or friends, if the others leave.”

          “I suppose it is totally selfish, but if Mozzie was here I’d be happy to stay. I have no family on Earth. My friendships are either illegal…I am not supposed to ‘consort with known felons’ ….or coloured by _their_ law-enforcement and _my_ law-breaking activities. We are always antagonists at the core.

          “There are things I’d miss desperately, which is why June and I were so distressed the night of the party. We were singing of things we all know, places we miss from home, everyone felt the nostalgia. But she and Mozzie are the only real friends I have there. She knows me, she reads me, she knows when I’m ready to run. The song was about her thinking of me when I’m not there. And I’ll miss her d-dreadfully.”

          “You are getting ready to escape from Steel Keep?”

          “No, no, I don’t mean that. I’m seriously considering leaving my old life on Earth for good, staying here. I wish I didn’t have to. There are so many things I will miss, some of them may have been destroyed because of the war, but the art, the cities, the beauty…and people such as June, one-in-seven-billion June.

          “But I will never be anything else but a criminal back home. Peter constantly sees me with a little ‘felon’ name-tag stamped on my forehead. I don’t think El would have, but she does now, after all these years. June loves me because her husband was in prison and she loved him.

          “My record will follow me all my life. There is no ..forgiveness? Absolution? ...even after I have served my sentence, helped the FBI, put murderers behind bars.  Even if I never commit another crime, any employer -- or anyone, really, could find out that I was a felon. That makes getting any ordinary job difficult, fathers of women, the women themselves, can look and see that I am a dubious risk. If I can’t get a good ordinary job, the temptation to commit another crime grows. In many ways, including physical threats because of my past, I am a just a liability to friends there.

          “You don’t care. You’ve used my skills, and you just see me as a rather strange Earthling. I can start again, here.”

          “Neal, for someone who can appear so arrogant and self-confident, give me leave to tell you that you are a brain-dead donkey! You are the key-stone in the arch of your friends. June and Mozzie may stay in contact for a while without you. Peter and El would stay together, but they would be missing something, some spark without you. There would be a dullness, a loss, that they would only get over slowly if at all. Tell me that your presence has not made the friendships between Peter and Diana and Jones stronger, at work? Would June and El ever have become friends, and how long would it last if you were not there?”

Neal sat up a little straighter.

          “Peter told me that you could control the world if you chose to and could ignore the streak of violence in others, you create such powerful alliances. You interpret people to each other. I have observed it, in the short time you have been here. That is a skill that cannot be overestimated and I doubt it can be taught.”

          “Peter said that?”

          “Yes, and he also said, and I think I am not breaking a confidence, that he envied you. You have lived so fully, done so many things…it is not just about your brilliance, though that is undeniable; it is your courage to try new things, live new ways.

"When I listen to you, I feel as though I am the slave, you are a freeman. I cannot rush off to another continent or live with another name as any other profession at all! Yes, I am sure it would be nice to leave the felon badge behind. For a short while. And yes, you may not have a choice! But I think you would find life here restricting, too.”

          “You’d free Mozzie and me after a while, or we’d run away. We’d start a whole new life here. Without all the Law Enforcement Agencies of a planet after us…at least at first!” He grinned.

          “If Mozzie stayed.”

          “I – I – yes, you’re right. It wouldn’t be much fun or easy without Moz, he complements me. I can truly trust him. We’re friends.”

          “Neal, do not ask him to stay. Please. Place no pressure on him. If you ask him, he would stay, and that is unfair. You never hurt people, do not use his love and friendship for you as a tether. He deserves better than that.”

They sat in silence a while longer. Then Steel asked, “At what books were you looking? Sir Mozzie was looking at maps, I think, when he was in here.”

          “Oh!” Neal said, turning again quickly and looking at him, the penetrating acumen showing in his face. “We were wondering: Can’t you, as a Keeper, put forth a Constitutional Challenge to the slavery laws, or the way they are used? Your Constitution clearly states that slavery is only legal with a contract between master and slave, and your contract laws are just the same as ours: a contract is only legally binding if there is full disclosure of all ramifications to all parties, and consensus between all parties.”

Steel stared at him. “How can you know this?”

          “You have a lovely big library, my Lord!” Neal waved his hand.

          “But – but you have no way of reading Sheel!”

          “I can read. Oh, you mean the ear-bugs can’t help. No, they can’t. But Junoel could.

"I rode out with him and asked his mother’s permission, I didn’t just take up his time! He taught me the basics, and I taught Mozzie. I’m an efficient learner, we’ve both had to be at times, but Mozzie is dazzling! He has a memory that is truly unequalled. Then we helped each other. I’m better with the patterns and nuance of a language, he’s better with the vocabulary and grammar.”

Steel said, in Sheel, speaking more loudly than usual, “So we can now converse without the translators?”

          “If we need to, my Lord,” Neal replied, similarly.

          “But why would you bother to learn?”

          Neal looked as though he’d heard that question at other times from other people and still didn’t understand it or know how to answer it. As though someone asked why he breathed, or why he ate. He attempted: “Well, because we could. And, and...we can use it, if we have to go back to Earth, as a language? If we then encode an alien language, how difficult would it be for anyone to crack that code!” He smiled, relieved that he had given Steel an answer he would accept. “And if we end up having to stay here, well, it’s unthinkable to be hobbled by the inability to read.…”

          Steel was still unconvinced. There must be more to this trick! “Tell me not that Junoel can read administrative and legal language!”

          “No, but once we had the basics, there are dictionaries! Very nice legal dictionaries, too, my Lord.”

          Steel gazed at him, thinking about Peter’s words… _he never gives up hope, he picks up whatever he thinks he might be able to use._ For a slave to find a way to learn, on his own initiative, without orders or even encouragement, to advance to read at higher levels of academia…and look for solutions to puzzles that were not even his problems….

         “You say I do not like you enough. Neal, I will not let you become emotionally dependent on me, but I know just why Peter loves you. And is continually surprised by you! So Mozzie can read Sheel as well.”

          “Not as well, _better!”_ Neal chuckled, though part of his mind wondered why Steel thought Peter loved him...had Peter said anything, or was it just Steel's empathy...which wasn't strong....

          “Well, it solved one of my problems.”

          “What – if you need a lawyer, Mozzie has a perfectly good legal degree, though it is from rather far away!”

Something became clear to Steel…the letter to the Captain of the Military had been succinct though very exhaustive and legally accurate and had no loopholes…in perfect High Sheel. He had wondered who had written it, but had been too preoccupied with other things to ask. He would have been proud to be the author of such a legal document.

          “No…I wanted to ask you if you would like to attend some classes at the local school for higher learning, to learn about art techniques, and the history of art here. We could get a…list? Of subjects, courses?”

          “Prospectus? Oh, that would be…” Neal’s face changed, closed, and he looked suspicious. “… _Why?”_

          “Oh, you do not have this for nothing, Neal. I require payment, lofty and regular payment.”

          “I have no money and Peter doesn’t want me to make some! Not that I have to obey him, especially if I am not going back with him.”

          “Money is not what I require from you, Neal. I require you to produce, every tenday, a piece of original art. It can be large or small, water-colours, clay, whatever…but yours. You must – must, I insist! – go with Lucilla, who will show you the best places and you will choose art supplies for your projects, both for school and for me. There is to be no more boiling of rice!”

          Neal stared at him as though his ear-bug had stopped working, and he didn’t understand Sheel any more.

          “But – but I can do good forgeries of anything I see, sometimes I need to study the piece. If I’m allowed to buy proper supplies! Honestly!” It was a plea.

          “I believe you. But I need not forgeries. You understand not…I have an artist, a great artist, from a far planet. No-one here has your work! I want originals from you…especially, but not only if you go back! Having those would pay me back for all my outlay on you all.”

          Neal looked up, his face more hopeful. “I can paint you a copy of any forgery I ever did! I remember it all, every brush-stroke. Genuine Masters …Earth artists.”

          “You can do that, if you choose, in your spare time. It does not fulfil this contract between us. Do you understand the ramifications, party of the second part? Oh, and if the courses you choose are not too time-consuming, I would like you to start teaching a few art classes at the school. Or later, if you have to stay, or choose to stay.”

          “I don’t know if I can.”

          “If you can teach?”

          “The original art work. I’d like to teach.”

          “Then we cancel the higher studies and the library. You will be cleaning pots: dirty, horrid, greasy, heavy cooking pots until I find a way to get you off this planet. You will not hide from these, I will lock you in the dungeon with them and set guards if necessary.”

          “And if I won’t? I have done without food before, I don’t think you’d actually let me starve, your emergency well is in the dungeons, there may be rats which, while unappetising…”

         Steel shifted gears on the fly. “Then I will ask Lira to pick your thoughts and allow Peter to make a full record. Oh, you may hide your thoughts from me but trust me, she will pick you clean as would a carrion bird!”

          “He couldn’t use information gained that way! And you’d better have a large store of paper!”

          “Need to he would not. It would destroy your entire mystique. And if he wanted to do so he would know exactly where to look for proof.”

          “Finding the proof wouldn’t help him if I stayed here…”

          “And your air of mystery?”

          “We-ell, my Lord, there is something in what you say, but if all I had ever accomplished were brought to light, it may even increase the awe and wonder in which Peter and the others hold me, had you considered that?”

          “Then why do you not just share?”

          “Um, much of it would leave me open to prosecution. If I were to stay here…no, I admit, my Lord, it would be excruciating to lose that hand-crafted mantle, even if I was never to return and even merely before - or perhaps especially before - Peter. I much prefer that people have no hard evidence about me, they can imagine even more fantastic exploits than the reality...in that way I'm as bad, almost, as Mozzie!

"Would you really…I’ve heard you threaten Peter…”

          “And now you have heard me threaten you.”

          He studied Steel’s implacable face and then Neal suddenly grinned. “I can buy art supplies?”

          “Yes. Take Sir Mozzie with you, and perhaps some youths to carry the parcels back to the carriage. Oh, and **_don’t copy or forge my signet ring!_ ”**

 

 

 

End of Chapter 13

 

Thank you for all the comments...let me know you're still enjoying it, those of you who can!


	14. Next steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Earthlings each find where they fit into Keep life. Steel congratulates himself.

 

 

          Peter noticed it first…Neal was not only there at the breakfast table, he looked as he must have looked when he first saw that treasure-trove, gleaming in the warm light…except as though Kate was standing before it, dressed in bridal white, surrounded by flowers, waiting, eyes dewy with love for him, and Mozzie standing by all ready to act as the web-ordained officiator!

          Peter went round and put his hand on Neal’s shoulder and Neal leaned his head back against him and smiled up at him, thinking, hoping that Steel was right.

          There was nothing hard in Neal’s smile, no con, just pure joy.

          “What good thing has happened, Neal?” Peter asked him.

          “Lord Steel has allowed...actually, he’s _ordered_ me to go and buy art supplies, and if I find courses at the university…I think that’s what it is…I can do some, and I can teach…”

          Neal’s eyes clouded a little.

          “What’s the catch?” Peter asked, reading him.

          “He also wants me to do some art-work for him. Every week.”

          “Not forgeries?”

          “No, I offered. Earth stuff…I can’t think what the legality of that would be, painting a Raphael _here!_ …but he wants _my_ work.”

            “Genuine Neal Caffrey’s?” Peter’s eyebrows went up. _Smart, Steel!_

            “Mmm.”

            “I’m sorry when I was your handler I could never do that for you.”

            “To me,” Neal murmured.

            “It’s wonderful. You will get to see how good you are.”

            “What if I’m not?” bounced back.

            “I think most of us would bet on you. Those who know just a little of what you’ve done. And let’s be honest, some of that awful stuff that sells for millions…how bad would you have to be!

            “What does Mozzie think?”

            “I think he’s a little worried. After all, if we get to go back, what good are original Caffrey’s to him?”

            “He thinks you might enjoy being an original?”

            “Yes.”

            Then Mozzie, with all his natural stealth, was at Peter’s elbow. “If it makes Neal happy, I’m happy, Suit!”

            “Yes, I think I believe that, Sir Mozzie,” Peter said with a slight bow, and the eyes of both Neal and Mozzie widened.

 

Suddenly, Neal had a structure of his own…not the FBI’s or Peter’s, or even Mozzie’s and Kate’s. He had to struggle with the Sheel, he was still learning, and abruptly he was at the equivalent of university, with a bunch of smart, well-educated and knowledgeable young people who had the advantage that all their education was about a planet he hadn’t even heard of a year ago!                                                 

            On top of that, though he gave him a week’s reprieve to get settled, Steel was not going to relinquish his hold on Neal for Original Caffrey’s (though Peter could have warned him that Neal Caffrey probably was not his birth name but hey, half a galaxy away and without even a forged birth certificate, who would really care? A nom de plume..)

He came home tired to exhaustion every day, went to Mozzie for help, became more fluent.

He was terrified of starting something, anything, in his own name, being forced to share - share his **_soul_** _! -_ much of the work he had done before he had left unsigned…but he did find a nice suite of rooms. It was in the abandoned wing Peter had found, and that Mozzie and Neal had carefully searched, not standing on the floor.

            This may have presented difficulties to people other than those aliens based on some spider- or gecko-model, but they borrowed two pairs of stilts, saying they wanted to learn, and the sweet, young and completely naïve aliens had been only too willing to allow these Earthlings to enjoy their game or sport or whatever it was. The funny little straight marks the stilts made just didn’t register as footprints, and they very carefully walked around the walls where no-one normally walked. All about people seeing what they wanted to see…or the opposite.

Getting supplies to Neal’s studio was also no problem for two men who had moved an antique statue weighing three hundred–plus kilos from a German castle window sixty feet above the ground to the nearest church bell-tower, outside the castle outer walls, in the middle of a moonless night. Mozzie had followed the goddess in question on a trapeze swung from the same rope. Neal had then undone the rope and climbed down the castle wall and over the perimeter walls, dragging the rope with him, leaving a little mystery for the previous owners.

            Mozzie borrowed pulleys and ropes from several spare sets set by the well in the basements for hauling water. They secured them and moved the supplies, which filled Neal’s heart with joy and terror, into the nice big room, filled with natural light, and set up shelves and tables and a couple of sleeping pallets in case they needed to sleep there. It reminded them a little of June’s loft-area. Without the view. It looked out over now-empty fields, which had the advantage that it was unlikely anyone would be out there are night, and few in the day.

Neal, more agile on the stilts, then removed the pulleys and the rope, while Mozzie made sure it didn’t touch the ground and disturb the dust. Then they made secure puzzle-locks for the doors beyond the dusty first, totally empty room. And they always walked on the stilts all the way along the corridor to the suite of rooms, to hopefully put off the dogs until they could devise a better plan.

            They couldn’t really have explained why they felt they should go to all this trouble. The fact was, they could do it, and especially in Mozzie’s mind, too much paranoia was far better than too little. And it was fun.

 

Neal liked it because it kept his fledgling works a secret.

 

Mozzie went alone to Steel and told him that Neal was busy, and Steel looked up from his work and nodded. “I know, Sir Mozzie. I expect nothing from him other than the work he and I agreed upon. Thank you for telling me …and I will let you know if I need your legal expertise!” The two grinned at each other. A very unlikely friendship was blossoming between the two, considering the way Mozzie had always spoken of the Evil Slave Lords on Earth!

 

           Neal was usually at breakfast, but distant, and seldom came to the other meals. Mozzie collected food for both of them warm for when he knew Neal would be home. Peter, not wanting to seem as though he was trying to be Neal’s handler again, went to June. She was sitting knitting baby booties for Thista’s child, and smiled up. “Hallo, Peeter.”

            “I see where Neal got that from,” he smiled at her. “May I sit?”

            “Of course…oh, the way he pronounces your name?”

            “Yes. Unless he’s cross with me.”

They smiled.

            “I know he’s going to University, whatever they call it here… but I don’t remember being quite as – um – I hardly see him, and when I do he seems completely distracted and his eyes look tired. He’s learned Sheel – how does he do these things? – but - ”

            “You’re worried about him.”

            “Yes,” Peter admitted. “I shouldn’t be, he’s not – I’m – he’s - ”

            “Amongst all the other blessings his fairy godmother gave him, Neal has a gene or an aura or a pheromone or something that makes us want to take care of him,” June smiled a little. “You are not the only one. It must have been a boon in his conning days. He’s strong – you know how strong, especially for his weight. He’s not fragile. He’s always – pretty much always – healthy.”

            “He looks ridiculously young, I suppose.”

            “That is probably part of it. But somehow, with all his brains and wiles and abilities, he looks helpless. He isn’t.”

            “No, I know. Probably the least helpless person I know!” Peter agreed. “But this thing – isn’t he trying to do to much? He ate one piece of toast at breakfast, made his apologies and left!”

            “Not enough for a growing boy!” June laughed.

            Peter made a face. “I used to think I felt like this because I was his…handler. Partner. He wouldn’t be out there, facing guns and crooks and my types of danger if I’d left him in prison. Now I realise that wasn’t it. I justified my feelings that way.”

            “I told you – and Steel – it was always love between you. Not father-son, not brotherly, not romantic…friends. Loving friends? The English languages has too few words for love, to few words for smiles, to few words for dancing and singing.”

            Peter looked at his hands, then said, “Love. El always said so. Please…they’re more likely to talk to you, Neal and Mozzie. Just let me know he’s all right?”

            June looked at him, and her eyes were thoughtful and a little melancholy. “He still loves you. Perhaps not as, well, I was going to say blindly. He so wants to be loved and to love.”

            “I think the best thing I can do is to leave him alone. I’ve always been pushy. If he wants to, he knows where to find me.”

            June watched him as he walked away. _How many ways people find to hurt each other_ she thought _even good people with good intentions._

 

         

          Elizabeth found her feet easily. When she had found Peter already established at Steel, that first day of meeting the Lord and teasing Peter and seeing all her friends laughing and obviously feeling safe, she had come to feel as though she and Peter were part of some project, going to a far country and learning and helping the people there…Habitat for Humanity or the Peace Corp or Doctors without Borders...except that she was a Housekeeper without borders! She sometimes thought about everything back home on Earth…Satchmo, all her friends and family, whether the New York skyline was still there - ! – but she was sensible and practical and knew that there was nothing she could do, she may never get back there, and she might as well enjoy her time here and make friends.

            She got on well with Ophera, but of course she was much younger than that esteemed lady. When she had some time free, she gravitated to Diana and Tamlin and was introduced to some of the women working with Lucilla. She sat and watched as they made clothing – colours, textures, design, embellishments – to fit this client or that slave. She helped, but it was the sensitivity and artistry that Lucilla and some of the others displayed that she loved. She felt she was absorbing skills she could use, if Steel found a way to get them back to Earth. She went back to their suite and told Peter, and cheered him with her enthusiasm.

            Peter and El also found themselves making this suite into home. They moved the furniture around, El found linens in the Keep storecupboards that she liked, she brought in flowers from the garden. The bed was large and comfortable and they made good use of it. For the first time since they married, they had time and energy for each other every day.

            “How did we manage back home,” Peter demanded, one morning after making love. “How did I manage with so little of you?”

            El pushed the damp hair off his forehead and grinned. He was so beautiful to her! “You used your excess energy chasing bad guys, Hon.”

            “I work hard here, too, Hon. But when I get here with you, home, I’m not worrying about the horses, about my training with Leran. Someone else is watching the animals at night, I don’t have boxes of paperwork. It’s just you and me. You, too…you’re not concerned with the flowers for the opening of the exhibit, or caviar that hasn’t arrived from Russia. You’re just here, with me. All mine! I like that!”

            “Oh, do you?” she grinned wickedly. “Just because you locked a slave-collar on me?"

            "Worth anything I'd have to pay, my love-slave!"

            "And how are you going to prove that?”

            “Come _**_on!_**_ _ ** _”_**_ He blew out a deep breath. “Give me twenty minutes!”

            They laughed and cuddled.

 

         

          Diana, was learning everything she could from Tamlin…about life in the Keep, about weapons, about empathy, about loving…oh, how they taught each other about loving…!... and she also enjoyed the freedom from stress and pressure. She tried to imagine how each of her relationships would have been if she had been able to dedicate as much of herself to them as she could here. She and Tamlin spent quite a high percentage of their time together and it seemed it did not lessen her enjoyment of the sweet alien's company, but intensify it.

            She was keeping up with her acrobatic routine with Jones, but she made a point of working out with Jones and Peter in the armoury, as well as with the locals, and the three Earthlings often spent time afterwards in the kitchens or one of their suites, having a snack and something to drink and just laughing and being…silly. Young, happy. How had life on Earth become so complicated and busy that everything seemed like work?

 

           While Neal was at University, Mozzie often went and found Jones. Jones was working quite a lot with the farm-hands, and Mozzie had some ideas about the windmills and other machines. Jones had always thought of Mozzie as an oddity…which he was …different…amusing…which he certainly could be, deliberately or not…but now, because of Steel’s attitude, he started paying Mozzie more attention and another odd friendship developed.

            Mozzie knew Jones was seriously cramped by The System back home, but here he was open to all sorts of new ideas. They talked to Brak and then Steel, who was encouraging of new ideas if they were, as Mozzie and Jones would have called them, ‘green’.

 

               Watching them all settling down, getting updates from Brak and Tamlin (some of these edited for content!), he congratulated himself. This group of high-energy, intelligent, self-motivated people could have become a liability to his Keep if they had become bored, and if they hadn’t liked him and his people. They seemed to gravitate to each other where possible, that was always the first preference of a group from a new market, but they weren’t antagonistic to the other humans.

            He sometimes pondered how odd it was that humans from different countries, different planets, could share a sense of humour, for example. Here Tamlin and Diana were falling in love, if his senses were guiding him accurately. The Keep children loved Neal, Mozzie, June and Elizabeth especially, though of these only June had children of her own.

 _How wholesome life is!_ he thought.

         

          Neal waited till the pressure to produce something for Steel became stressful. He worked well under pressure, often had limited time and great danger nipping at his heels.

            The first thing he tried was a portrait of June. He loved her, he knew her like a son knows his mother, her features were imprinted in his mind. It should have been easy, but the first one reminded him a little of a hesitant early Picasso…which he hadn’t intended. The next, a Rembrandt. He fought his hands! It was as though he was a composer, and every original tune morphed into Green sleeves or Amazing Grace!

            Mozzie saw the discards and took Neal’s right hand in his. “Just think of June. Hear her voice. Love her. Don’t consider style. Don't think of who's watching! Put the love on the canvas. That’s all that matters. And remember, Adams said: ‘Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep ** **’ –**** just throw away the bad ones!”

Neal smiled a little. Mozzie always had a quotation!

 

         

          When he was finished, Mozzie nodded. Mozzie seldom praised him, it was always a careful assessment of whether the forgery would pass inspection and fool whomever needed to be fooled. Neal left the rooms and wandered the castle. He took a horse out, he fought (and lost) against Joster. He went back, careful on the stilts. Locked their lair.

            “It’s not perfect, but it’s not bad,” he said to himself, walking further away, nearer, changing the angle to the light. Then he did another, of June the way she looked when they were singing together, singing of loss and yearning.

            It was better. “Not perfect, but better,” he said, aloud.

            “I’d be concerned, mon frère, if you said anything else,” Mozzie commented, behind him. “I can not imagine any great artist being totally satisfied with a piece.”

            Neal turned to him and smiled. “I can do this, Mozzie.”

            “You’ve always been able to do this, Neal.”

            “I didn’t know.”

            “I did.”

           Neal looked at him and then gave him a hug. “Thank you, Moz. For everything.”

            Moz looked out over the darkening sky. “Is that meant for Goodbye?”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Your energy, Neal. I know you, we’ve been nearly everything to each other for many years at a time. Odd interludes for lovers or Federal agents and their wives, or Keepers. But the fabric has always been you and me. The rest are just embellishments. __That__ song?” He pointed at the portrait of June. “You think you have to write it in sign writing across the alien sky for me, when June sings __that__ with you?”

Neal’s heart bumped within him. “Mozzie, we may never get home. And – ”

            “Do me the honour of not lying to me, Neal!” Mozzie snapped.

            Neal turned and sat, looking at his friend. “Moz, I’m not a criminal here. I may do criminal things…I almost certainly will. But I can’t _**_be_**_ a criminal any more on Earth, and I will never be anything else. I feel as though I’m in one of those old spy movies with the walls closing in…there’s nowhere left for me to stand, I’m disappearing. I’m not even sure who I am, who I’m meant to be!”

            “This is all because of the Suit.” Mozzie shook his head, disgusted.

            “He was doing his job! I took my eye off the ball, messed up and he caught me with enough evidence and I got the damned criminal record. Now, even if they fired him for it, he would pursue me if I ran.”

            “Let him! He’d never find us!”

            “I couldn’t do that to Elizabeth. He’s …he would be…”

            “Crazy, Neal, obsessed, fanatical, __crazy__. If you think he’d do that, and I agree there is a good chance, he’s either a very bad loser, or in love with you. Perhaps both. He thinks because he caught you, he owns you!”

            “He’s a __very__ bad loser!” Neal grinned, though there was little mirth there.

            “Perhaps, Neal, because he’s had so little practise! It may be character-building for him to experience it a few hundred thousand times! Be honest, do you think I’d let him capture you again?”

            “No.” Neal looked away. “I think you’d kill him first.”

            “Mon frère, I should have done that the first time, before you spent one minute in prison.”

            Neal smiled. “You were always more pragmatic, feet on the ground, than I was. I wouldn’t want you killing Peter. Elizabeth wouldn’t, either.”

            “I wouldn’t choose to kill the Suit, he’s not a bad man, though deluded, and wouldn’t do it for anything or anyone else. But to keep you safe, and free…in a heartbeat!”

            “Thank you, Mozzie. I know how hard that would be for you.”

            “Oh, I’d prefer not to pull the trigger. But there are more ways than one of disappearing a Suit.”

            “And then? Ellen used to say: Kill one fly, a score come to his funeral, kill one cop, a thousand come!”

            “Earth’s a big place. You think I just have safe-houses in New York?”

“But we’d be hunted. We wouldn’t be here, at least not for a while.”

            “You think I can’t disguise a murder as you disguise your own style when you do a forgery? Think again. And you’re saying ‘we’, Neal.”

            “Look, Moz, I would do anything to change how things are in New York. To have friends, and do small, innocent, clever cons and have plenty of money and help Peter on cases…well, interesting cases. But that is a __dream__. It always was, it always will be. I got the anklet to find Kate…I lost her, perhaps never had her…then I had a short, wild, joyous, idealistic passionate dream, in which Peter and Elizabeth and you and June and me – and maybe Diana and Jones - were secure and happy, friends… I know Peter likes me, I think he loves me, but he’s always going to see me as a criminal. The dream faded and I woke up. Abruptly.

            “I would stay in New York. You know I love it. I know you do, too…but if I stay, I’m always going to be under surveillance, even after my years are up, and that’s if I don’t commit any more crimes. You know how the system is…a painting is forged, they pull up all records of the people within the area that have committed that sort of crime _**_ever_**_ and drag them in and harass them. No fun…and I __like__ committing crimes, so long as no-one gets hurt. Nothing else feels like it!”

            “I told you, we could leave, go somewhere else!”

            “Leave New York. The place we most want to be. The only place we – I - couldn’t be.”

            “Ye-es…”” Mozzie looked away. “You’re saying that we might as well leave and come here.”

            Neal leaned back. “Steel told me…ordered, really…not to ask you or beg you. And I won’t. But you’d leave New York to be with me and look after me, though I could manage on my own…but yes, _**_yes,_**_ not as happily!

            “Please could you think about it. You’re so much smarter than I am. Am I not seeing some way out…? …and that’s, of course, if Steel can even get us home!”

            Mozzie was silent for so long that Neal started preparing a new canvas. Then Moz rose, closed the black-out curtains they’d made so that their light would not alert anyone to their presence, and opened a bottle of Steel Keep wine, liberated from the very nice cellar in the barn basement. He poured a glass for them both. After a time, Neal joined him. As they swirled, breathed in and sipped, he said, “It is you who are being clear-sighted, Neal. I will consider our options. But, Neal…they are __our__ options. Until you tell me you do not want me…”

**_“Mozzie!”_**

“Very well, then. To our future, wherever it may be!”

 

 

 End of Chapter 14

 

I copied and pasted back and forth, let me know of errors, please. or anything you like or hate!

 


	15. Default Setting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silly disagreement involving the whole Earthling Team and Neal's paintings.

 

 

 

          As the days turned into fifty-days, Neal found his feet. He did an original piece of art for Steel every tenday. At first, they were small pieces - June’s portrait, which Steel obviously loved. Then there was a water-colour of a rainy street in New York, somewhat abstract.

          As he became more confident at school, and just keeping up wasn’t a desperate struggle, the pieces became larger. He painted, to the Earthlings’ delight, the view from June’s balcony. Then Peter, Diana and Jones bursting into a room, gun’s drawn, high-alert and dangerous.

          “We are not Charlie’s Angels!” Peter grinned, shaking his head, referring to the movie.

          “J. Edgar’s Angels! Poster-children for the FBI!” Neal chuckled back.

          “You happy with your work, Caffrey?” Peter asked, looking at him interrogatively.

          “Room for improvement,” Neal smiled. “But yes. I am.”

          Peter put one arm round his shoulders and hugged him. For a second Neal pulled away, startled, then relaxed into his side, hugging back.

          After that, Neal wandered off through totally abstract styles: geometrics, splodges and splatters that Peter sniffed at but Elizabeth liked, something that looked to Peter like a multi-coloured rain, mostly shades of mauves and grey, had fallen on the canvas…what was that supposed to be? …it had taken Neal ages: he had started it very early on and annoyed Mozzie, as it had been on the floor and in the way.

          “It’s sort of large pointillism,” Elizabeth tried to explain to Peter. “Very hard to actually achieve…look at the paint, all circles, some completely overlapping!”

          “Sort of no-pointillism,” Peter muttered. It was still better than those studies in blue and yellow that weren’t even blue!

          “Like blood spatter, Boss!” Elijah said.

          “Oh, so this proves that the artist was standing still while he was bleeding multi-coloured paint!” Peter nodded, slightly more interested.

          “Shouldn’t still call him Boss, Sweetie,” Neal told Elijah, joining them.

          “And you shouldn’t call me Sweetie, Slick!”

          “I can call you Sweetie! I can call Peter Sweetie, or even Jones Sweetie, when I was on Earth. It’s a gender-neutral term of affection.”

          Elijah pondered that. “Women can call anyone Sweetie, I think, though I don’t much care for it…but they can get away with it. Men…hmmm…”

          “Are you telling me, Elijah, that men and women are different? Seriously?

          “Aren’t you an unlikely spokesperson for gender-rôle inequality?”

          Elijah glared a very Diana-ish glare at Neal, who chuckled.  “And Peter, it’s not just multi-coloured paint!”

          “Pointillism is about showing a picture using dots, like newsprint,” El said, gazing at it. “This is an abstract.”

          Neal made a face. “Yes…and no. Isn’t every painting of an abstract?”

          " ‘There is no abstract art. You must always start with something. Afterward you can remove all traces of reality,’ " Mozzie quoted.

          “Exactly, Moz! Pablo Picasso – and he should know!”

          “How about the Raphael, the much-contested Raphael?” Peter demanded. “That’s something I can understand!”

          “Of course you can, Peter!” Neal grinned. “It’s all about good versus evil…well, it’s about good _triumphing_ over evil, which is very much your reason for existence. The picture is a representation of a powerful abstract…it isn’t realism, dragons don’t exist, after all…on Earth, at this time.”

          “Have you _met_ Hughes on a bad day?” Jones asked, and they all laughed.

          “Every piece of art is about an abstract…even oh, Water Lilies. Or a Turner sunset…perhaps some of those are mostly about God. Beauty. Serenity.”

          “You’re reaching. Anyway, at least I can see what is representing the abstract idea in those! It gives me a clue.”

          “For this abstract large pointillism, as El has dubbed it (but which it isn’t), you have had lots of clues!” Neal told him.

          “Really?” Diana asked, looking back at it, her interest piqued. The others drifted off to look again at his view from June’s place.

          “Really.” Neal smiled at her. “Steel won’t get it, there’s a cultural context, but you might.”

Diana looked at the plate at the bottom. The painting was called ** _: Three quarters of Ten_** _._

          “7.5?” she asked. “I don’t get it. Um…7 1/2? 15 over 2? 30 over 4?” She backed up and sat on one of the benches, trying to see the painting from more of a distance.

          Neal continued to smile gently at her. “How many of that open-ended set are you going for? Don’t be so analytical! It’s a painting, not a maths problem. A…friend of yours worked with accountant Peter for too long.”

          She glanced up at him. “Is this how it feels, your aliases? As though the other one is someone you once knew?”

          “More so, probably,” he said, going over and sitting next to her. “I know your hair and clothes are different, but you’re really just the same. What I mean is, you were never particularly girly, not soft or frilly. Your job forced you to be masculine to compete. You’ve taken it to the next level, but I’m not sure you could live as a _feminine_ woman for long. Playing a part, perhaps, for an hour or so…but living that way?”

          “Because I’m a …?”

          “No, don’t be goofy. That’s like people thinking all gay men are hairdressers and ballet dancers or swishy, or essentially feminine. I’m saying you have a strong, and slightly more masculine-than-usual-for-a-woman centre. You know who you are, you’ve had to fight for it. Look around the FBI…or any government institution that I can think of, up to and including the Executive Branch. Any frilly girls with their hair in pigtails?”

          She looked straight at him and asked, “Why do you play at being a boy, then?”

          “Um, I don’t always and…there are reasons. I have the male bits you don’t have, don’t have the female bits – ”

          “I’m not saying that you pretend to be a _male_ , I’m asking why you pretend to be a _boy._ You are so mature and smart and aware.”

          “Ask Peter, Steel – or Mozzie. They’ve got me all figured out.”

          “How nice for you!”

          “Yes, isn’t it? No self-analysis needed.”

          She leaned sideways against him. “I’m sorry if I sharpened my more-masculine-than-usual centre on you sometimes.”

          “Taking your lead from your Boss at the time: _Don’t trust the felon_.”

          “Wasn’t only that. I was still trying to prove I could cut it.”

          “All done now?”

          “In White Collar. If I move somewhere, probably have to start all over again.”

          “Sad, hmm?”

          “Very. If I was stronger, perhaps I would have pigtails and lacy dresses.”

          “Even I think that would look odd, which is _very_ sad.”

          “On me?”

          “Well, yes, a little, but I meant any female agents with guns and frilly dresses. And if you cuddle up too much to me, someone might think you are gay, Elijah!”

          She laughed and sat up straight. “You and me, more in common than one might think! Breaking old thought patterns in others.”

          He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I like the company I keep!”

          “I’m going to sit and look at your painting a bit longer. It is solvable, isn’t it? It isn’t just a bunch of random dots to drive us all crazy?”

          He shook his head as he stood. “It truly isn’t. This one has a meaning, a –a – I’m not going to give it away. It isn’t random.”

          “Does Mozzie know?”

          “Yes, if he has eyes, he knows. He saw me while I worked on it. But unless you are planning torture, which I wouldn’t put past a friend you once knew, don’t bother.”

          She wrinkled her nose in a truly feminine gesture that made Neal laugh. “It would be too easy, anyhow. I’ll get it.”

          “I believe you will.”

About three days later Neal found Diana, right up against the canvas with paper and graphite, working her way across his painting with many little lines and crossings on a graticuled white surface she was holding.

          He exclaimed, astounded, “My God, Elijah! That looks something like my cell wall, counting days! It’s a _painting! Art!_

          “It _isn’t_ ‘ **HOW MANY JELLY BEANS ARE THERE IN THIS JAR? CLOSEST GUESS WINS THE PIG!’** ”

 

 

Neal presented his next offering, a real pointillist painting of Ophera and El in the sunny kitchen-garden, both happily collecting beautiful vegetables into baskets, before Diana suddenly jumped up and exclaimed, “Oh! Of course! I’ve got it!”

          Neal, busy trying to get his rather smaller painting to hang straight, looked over and grinned. “Sure?”

          “Absolutely! Once I saw it…and you did sort of give me another clue, when you were talking to me. You said ‘It has a meaning, a – a – ’ and then you stopped. You were going to add ‘a pattern’, and when I saw it, everything fell into place.”

          “I told you you would!”

          “Am I supposed to keep it a secret?”

          Neal shook his head. “Peter will never see it, probably even if we tell him. El might. If you tell her you have and she takes the time.”

          “But it’s amazing and lovely and deep and – and it must have taken you absolutely ages!”

          “See if El wants to try, and then you can tell the others. I’d like to be there, see their reaction. Peter will say something like: ‘All that work for _that?_ ’ ”

          “Or,” she agreed, “ ‘Why not just paint it so I can _see_ it, you’re a good painter!’ ”

          “Or,” he went on, “ ‘It still just looks like spots to me!’ ”

          “Whereas now that I’ve seen it, I’ll never not see it.”

 

About an hour later, all the Earthlings stood in front of the ‘dotty painting’, as Peter dubbed it. Diana couldn’t wait to share, and make sure she was right!

          “Okay,” she said, almost jumping up and down. “It’s a code. It’s a love story. It’s so sad and poignant…”

          “It’s a bunch of _dots!"_   Peter declared, looking at her as though she had lost her mind. “If that’s sad, it’s only because some sappy arty people will pay money for it rather than say, ‘The Emperor has no Clothes!’ ”

          “How did you ever get to working with art at any level, Peter,” Neal groaned.

          “I got into White Collar because I am an accomplished accountant and auditor, and I can smell phony books like you smell good wine, so you say! The art just came with it.

          “…Come on, Caffrey, you’re a con man. Let me ask you straight out: are you telling me that there are none – _none_ – of the so-called great modern artists who throw paint or draw straight lines or something and call it – oh – “Mystery of Life” or “Jenny picking Daffodils” or something…not one of them are just plain frauds. Oh, they’re them, they aren’t pretending to be anything but people who throw paint, but they’re just laughing all the way to the bank? - no deep spiritual meaning behind the splatters and blobs? Frauds.”

          Neal hesitated. “There are a few, perhaps, whom I have to say…”

          Peter smiled widely, almost predatorily, “There you are. A fancy name, oh, such as **Three quarters of Ten,** just so it keeps the masses guessing…”

          Elizabeth, June and Mozzie all made an inarticulate noise of horror. El spoke first, “Peter, stop it!”

          “It doesn’t matter, Elizabeth,” Neal shook his head. “I’m a fraud. Peter’s right, I usually am!”

          At El’s glare, Peter swallowed and said, “Neal, that’s not what I meant. Look, this painting doesn’t appeal to me. And those others. But June and the view and my team, El and Ophera in the garden…they’re brilliant, even I can see that. But I can’t help thinking that this took very little time…perhaps you were hard-pressed to finish your Varsity work that week, I don’t know. I just can’t see the skill in it.”

          “Boss, shut the **_fuck up_** !” Diana said, and everyone swung to look at her in total surprise. “It may not be to your taste. Fine. Go and fight Leran or ride a horse. No-one scoffs at you for those skills. Neal is brilliant, and that’s why you wanted to catch him, to prove how clever you are. So stop belittling him at every turn, because it erodes your reputation. And – and sometimes, though you’re smart and a great Boss of the FBI, and all that, sometimes you can be really cruel.”

          Peter took a literal step backwards. Neal saw his face and said, “Hey, Elijah, that’s a little strong. Peter doesn’t mean it, it’s not his fault…he doesn’t see this kind of art… many people don’t!

          “He doesn’t believe in the system because he’s FBI, he’s FBI because he believes in the system…and I don’t disbelieve the system because I’m a criminal, I’m a criminal because I haven’t ever been able to believe in the system and it’s the only way to survive. Peter thinks that everything I do is therefore suspect. You can’t blame him.”

          “So you are supposed to change yet he can stay the same hidebound, insensitive grouchy bastard whenever he likes and _not_ learn anything about art or people?” Diana was scowling.

          “Wow, Elijah!” Jones murmured. “Cool it.”

          “Hey, hey…that’s my husband you’re insulting, D – Elijah!” Elizabeth got involved, stepping towards Diana. “And he knows enough about people to be a great boss, and to have caught Neal, and taken him out of prison.”

          “Neal,” Mozzie said, calmly, “I found a lovely wine, I’d like you to try it.”

          “I think that’s a great idea, Moz.” Neal took Mozzie’s arm and they started off down the corridor.

          The feuding Earthlings were silenced, watched them withdrawing, taken aback, not knowing how to react. After a noticeable pause, Peter suddenly startled El, Diana, June and Jones by taking off after them, running them down. It wasn’t the smartest play: Neal and Mozzie broke apart and ducked against opposite walls, and when Peter skidded to a halt Mozzie was brandishing half a fist-sized ‘rock’ with a knife-blade protruding out of it, and Neal, knees bent, had his dagger in his left hand, balancing his weight with his right. They both sported expressions of alarm and determination that shocked Peter. Had he gone for one of them, he had no doubt the other would have stabbed him in the back.

          “Hey, hey, No! Guys - !” Peter said, putting up his hands. “I’m – Neal! I just wanted to stop you. Don’t go! This was supposed to be a big moment for you, or D-Elijah, about the painting, and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry! I seem to have a default Philistine setting when it comes to modern art, and sometimes just when it comes to you. I wasn’t going to do this any more, and I just did. Really, I’m really, really sorry. Please?”

          Neal and Mozzie looked at him, not sure. He made a, ‘come on please!’ gesture and they sheathed their weapons…Neal in a back-holster he’d sewn into the jacket and Mozzie just put the two pieces of the rock together and held it, feeling that he didn’t want it too inaccessible.

          “The moment has kind of lost it’s lustre, Peter,” Neal said. “Elijah can tell the rest of you.”

          “But I don’t think I see all the layers, Neal!” Diana said, joining them.

          “I know you just apologised, but somehow I still don’t feel fine about everything, Peter.”

          “Hard to believe, when he’s been at the root of so many of your problems,” Mozzie whispered to Neal.

          Neal closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted right at this minute was a he-said-he-said argument between Peter and Mozzie.

          “I’m going,” he said, firmly, and turned to do so.

          “Neal!”

          It was one of two voices that would have stopped him. June had joined the little group, and the others were arriving as well. Neal turned to her and said, “It’s too much, June. I have to get away.”

          “I know, dear. Sometimes it just closes in on you. But I need something from you.”

          “What?” Neal sounded stressed. His self-esteem wasn't strong enough yet in the face of Peter's certainty. Even though his head knew that Peter wasn't much of an expert on art of any sort, his heart didn't seem to understand that.

          “Come with me,” she said, and lead him off into a little alcove, where none of the others could see or easily hear them. “Neal, he doesn’t mean to be so cruel. I think it’s because he feels inadequate when it comes to this area of your life. He wants to love all of you, but impressionism, surrealism...he wants you to be all realism!” she whispered, smiling.

          Neal smiled back at her. “He’d love all of me if I was quite a lot more like him.”

          “We’re all a little like that, dear.”

          “You are right, June. If he was just a little less…um…”

          “In the box?” she chuckled.

          “Mmm. Even just a little.”

          “You want him to love at least the bits of you he understands and _can_ love. Do the same for him.    

          “And, dear, I know …”

          “Yes. I will talk to you about it when I’m sure. I won’t just disappear.”

          “I’ve lived a long time. I’d **_like_** forever, but I know that doesn’t happen. Perhaps especially for people like us.”

          “Oh, I believe in forever, dearest June. I may not have much time with you now, Byron left you, too…but I believe that there will be a time when we’ll be together.”

          “You believe in Heaven? For us?”

          “I don’t know if it’s Heaven. But one day Byron will show _me_ how he wore the hats, and I will be envious. You two will show me how you danced all night, and we’ll all be young and happy. Mozzie and Byron will entrance each other with stories of secret passageways and back-ups to back-ups of security and all the times they evaded capture!

          “I don’t know that I want it to be Heaven, I’d still like to be able to be at least a ** _little_** wicked!”

          “When you smile that smile at me, Neal Caffrey, I’d believe anything…I’ll believe in your forever!”

          “Forever! You have to keep believing _forever!”_

          She lifted her arms and they hugged, laughing a little. “Isn’t there a song about it? Now come on, sweet boy, and show us your painting! I know it’s something special, _I_ can smell it!”

          They walked out hand-in-hand, smiling, and they all went back to stand in front of the painting.

          Neal made a hand-gesture to Diana. “Okay, then, what do you see, Elijah!”

          “You gave it to me, really, I wasn’t that clever!” she smiled. “The title, the fact that you nearly said it had a pattern…”

          “Tell us, the suspense is killing me!” Jones declared.

          “It’s the Tennessee Waltz!” Diana exclaimed. “I’m right, aren’t I, Neal, aren’t I?”

          “On the money!” he smiled at her.

          “But…” Peter said, his face screwed up, trying to understand.

          El nodded. “Okay, the title : **¾,** the time signature of a waltz, and **of Ten** …the Waltz of Tennessee. I see that.”

          “And if you stand back you can see a pattern in the dots. It’s very subtle, but it’s there, a sort of spiralling out and up from the bottom left. I don’t understand the colours, yet…Neal?” Diana begged. “It’s full of meaning, isn’t it?”

          Neal nodded. “The artist isn’t supposed to unlock all the secrets. The audience is supposed to bring their own interpretation, but since this thing has already been mauled by a multitude, I might as well do the post-mortem.”

The small group groaned a little.

          “The background is pale pink, not white. He’s standing on love, he’s stable. But then his love falls for another, and he’s left alone, with the waltz playing in his head forever…and he’s bleeding. His blood is falling straight down, the drops are falling vertically. He’s hardly moving…well, he isn’t, between steps.”

          “But the drops aren’t red,” Peter said, humbly.

          “No, the drops are purple, at first. Where he’s first standing. Then he takes a step…the basic box-step of the waltz, and he bleeds a little more. But he’s being drained. As he waltzes all alone, stuck on the dance floor, in the same dance, perhaps hoping just a little that she'll return, his colour fades, the purple fades slowly, and he’s not balanced. He’s thrown off-balance by the loss of what he hoped was his forever love, his other half,” Neal glanced at June, who nodded.

          “So the basic box-step of the waltz – he hasn’t the will for anything fancier than that – shifts, as he continues to dance and bleed. He spirals, as it were, out of control, out of the box of the picture, and at each step he bleeds greyer and greyer. The spiral is what Elijah saw. He eventually leaves the dance - the picture - and we hope he recovers, but for the purposes of the painting, he never does.”

          “Why purple? I get the spiral, and the imbalance and the everlasting, off-balance waltz of his misery, fading to grey…” Diana tugged his sleeve.

          Neal answered, his voice softening with grief for the mourning lover,    “Purple…the two state flowers of Tennessee are the purple iris, the cultivated flower, but more important, the passion flower, which is the wild state flower of Tennessee. His wild passion fades to anemic grey. And passion, though we think of it as love, is any powerful emotion, rage, yearning…”

          “How do you _know_ that, about the flowers?” Jones asked, which Neal ignored.

          “But Neal, it’s beautiful!” El said, tears in her eyes. “He was just standing there, dancing alone, watching his love dance with another, and bleeding from every pore! You were the dancer? Your feet were the stencil for the drops at each step, partially covered when you’d taken the next step…? How did you do it…it must have taken weeks! This is oil! You don’t get to walk away and come back in half an hour!”

          “Trust me, Mrs Suit, it took a very long time!” Mozzie snorted.

          “I did use an additive to make them dry a little faster than normal.”

          “So the odd spots of paint that aren’t a shade of purple or grey…?” Peter asked, pointing.

          “He’s on a dance floor. He’s bleeding from every pore, as Elizabeth says, but there are others, who dance over where he’s been and where he’s going, not really noticing him, the lone sap on the dance floor, but they are human. Some of them are bleeding a little, too. But those drops aren’t circular, because those dancers are moving swiftly, spinning, turning.”

          “I see that!” Peter said, suddenly smiling. “I actually understand it, now that you’ve told me!” He made a face. “But you’re so talented…couldn’t you have just painted it so I could _see_ it?”

Neal and Diana burst out laughing. Neal said, “Peter – you were so close, I thought you were going to get it the first day! You said, ‘So this proves that the artist was standing still while he was bleeding multi-coloured paint’ – I was so sure you’d see it right then!”

          “It seems a lot of work, but I can see that most of us don’t share our emotions, we obscure them, keep them hidden, we bleed silently,” Peter nodded.

Neal gave him a one-armed hug, which surprised him. “See! You have the soul of a romantic hiding under those awful suits…and now these nice ones…even if you only usually show it to your wife!”

 

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 15

 Blessings fall in abundance on those who have commented - it really does help!


	16. Little Bridging Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title says, just taking them each a step on.

 

 

          Peter, seeing that the others were really enjoying much of their time here at Steel and understanding the need to do the same, worked on the horses, re-designed the stable records with the help and approval of Klenalth so that they could be used and cross-referenced more easily. He learned more about the anatomy of these horses, some of the methods of healing that the horsemen here used in simple cases. He learned that Lira was regularly called if there was something serious.

          Peter was trying to build a life he could feel comfortable with if they had to stay, which seemed very likely. Peter never considered staying behind by choice. He and El both had family on Earth and he felt as though he belonged there. Not here. Especially if the war was still ongoing, he should be there!

          He always enjoyed learning, though, and hadn’t been challenged by so many new things all at once as he was here since entering Quantico.

          His work sometimes left him free to think, and he pondered his deep dependence on the systems of law and order on Earth.

          Kramer might have been a power-hungry despot with no sensitivity and a complete blindness when it came to what would work with Neal, but in this he had been right, he thought. Neal had become a little more like him, but he had become a lot more like Neal…and being here had shaken him further.              

          Could he go back to the job that he loved, that rewarded him well, knowing the deep flaws: The confessions drawn out with lies and trickery, the plea bargains and compromises, the corrupt officials at every level, the inability to trust one’s own conscience, to be forced to go with the Rules, no matter how crazy?

          How sick had he felt whenever he’d said to a disbelieving Neal, “That’s the Law,” as though it was the Voice of God!

          Then there was the prison system that warehoused men in dreadful, unsafe conditions, where even Neal, never-have-a-gun, never-hurt-anyone-if-you-can-help-it Neal had been badly hurt and could have been killed, where if any rehabilitation happened it was because of some outside agency, a church-group or something, not because of anything the government offered? Most criminals came out better-trained and with more criminal connections than when they went in! And what was the alternative? There wasn’t any, no-one in power was even looking!

          Then there always came the questions: What do I do instead? How do I support El properly? I would not be working with Diana and Jones. Is that fair to them to leave them who-knows-who as a boss, possibly someone as corrupt as Kramer, or as short-sighted as Ruiz…who _always_ treated Neal badly. Wouldn’t I be better than one of those?

 _And because of what the system made me, **I** often treated Neal badly_. Even loyal Diana had thrown it at him _. How can a system be good if it makes you treat a friend, someone you love, so cruelly._ _But if you take away the system, what is there…anarchy. Even a flawed system is better than none, surely. Steel said that, when Neal wanted, dear, silly Neal, to collapse the financial structure of the planet._

          In the evenings, when he was alone with El, he discussed it with her. She had always had uncertainties about the infallibility of the system, had taken to Neal and Mozzie with few reservations. They were criminals, but she trusted them because they were friends. They couldn’t trust **_him_** as a friend, because he was FBI to his bone-marrow! He sometimes developed headaches trying to work out how he felt!

          “You’ll do the right thing, Hon,” she told him, kissing him.

          “But I don’t know what that is!” he groaned.

          “When you need to, you will.”

          “How do you have such faith in me?”

          “Lots of experience, silly!” she said, pulling back the covers. ‘Come to bed, I’m cold!”

And warming both of them, loving her, falling deep into the sexual pleasures they shared, he could forget for a while.

          “I want to live in a country,” he thought, showering one morning, “where I can say, ‘it’s the Law, Neal,’ and _know_ that it’s the same as saying, ‘It’s right, fair and just, Neal.’ And I don’t. So can I change it? Because if I can’t, I don’t want to use that line any more. Ever.”

And something hurt and broken within him seemed to settle and heal as he came to this decision.

 

          Diana wasn’t as concerned. She wasn’t the same type as Peter. She would always try and please him, as her Boss, and do what was right. She trusted him to do what was right much of the time. But if she was up against something she thought was wrong, even if it was legal, she’d go with what seemed right. Especially if she could keep her career intact, but if something was truly important, her career would go by the boards. She had never had to think that out. She just knew.

          Now she was in a Castle Keep with her friends, though missing some of them who were hopefully safe on Earth, and learning all sorts of new things. Her relationship with Tamlin had opened up many wonderful experiences…Tamlin was Uhura to Steel’s Kirk. She was the person most often at the centre of communications, calling Lira (Bones!) in emergencies, letting Steel know that Jarad’s wife was pregnant and they needed to send gifts, taking ‘calls’ from Steel about new slaves. At first it made Diana feel inadequate, almost substandard, as early days at the Academy had, but Tamlin laughed at her.

          “Firstly, Elijah, I don’t care if you never can learn to speak mind-to-mind…we have fun. It’s _quiet!_ But how do you know you can’t? Have you ever tried?”

          Lying warm and satisfied in Tamlin’s arms, Diana tried to do as Tamlin said: “Open up to me, Elijah! Just let the walls down. I can feel them there, and I see some of what is behind, but I can not hear clearly, and I know you hear me not. And stop **_trying_** , silly, just lie back and let it happen…like the first time someone made love to you! Someone you really trusted and liked.”

          At first it was snatches, short bursts like finding, briefly, a radio station and then losing it. Slowly, though, Diana could at least feel Tamlin’s emotions and more and more her thoughts.

 

          Jones was working hard, getting very good with a sword and also a kind of mace-equivalent that he could swing round his head and crunch things in a most satisfying manner! He and Diana worked at their routine four times a week, and he was not a bad rider, now. He liked working on the farm most. The people there reminded him of his grandfather and –mother, good, down-home types in touch with the soil and the animals and the plants.

          He envied Peter and Diana their romantic nights, but avoided any advances himself. He was holding out strong hope that somehow they would go back. He loved his mother and his job with Peter…not aware that Peter was fighting demons about it…and though he was going to make the most of every second here, learning and enjoying and laughing and growing, he reminded himself many times a day that he was here as a visitor, not to build too-strong ties.

June wasn’t going to fuss about things she couldn’t change, and, after hearing the word ‘slavery’, which had felt like a heart-punch at the time, she had expected a far worse situation than she found herself in. It had been a huge relief to find herself here, clothed and fed well, treated well, not abused or treated as a machine to work without rest or complaint.

It also seemed to her a good thing that Neal and Peter now faced each other away from the powerful forces that kept their relationship under tension. They needed a new set of conditions, because the work-release programme wasn’t going to turn Neal into an angel - if Peter **_ever_** thought it would! – and though they may have had a slim chance without further crises, crises had come at them from all sides like hail in a tornado the last few months they were on Earth! She felt sorry for the pair of them. To her they often seemed to be trying to find their way to each other through just that terrible storm, frustrated and taking it out on each other.

They could have been, should have been close friends, had they not found themselves in legal opposition. She had hoped they would relax with each other sooner than this, but perhaps the hurts had gone to deep? She hoped not. She loved Neal and liked much of what she knew of Peter. Neal seemed to trust Steel, but after all, they had very limited experience of these aliens.

June, with her vast life-experience, just fitted in to her new surroundings as she always had, enjoyed what she could, prayed every morning and night for all of them, and tried to support her friends.

          “Women are better at it, I think, dear,” she said to Neal once, when it was just the two of them visiting a little fish pond Neal had found in the castle grounds. They weren’t fish, more like some kind of shrimp, but the idea was the same, and the sounds were soothing. “You know, usually the men found the jobs and the women just moved with them and adjusted.”

          “Not so much any more,” Neal had said, making sure June was settled in a comfy chair and feeding the shrimp some meat scraps Ophera had given him.

          “You’d be surprised,” June said, drily. “Not that I question it…I think men find it very trying. Women tend to adapt – Byron and I were poor as dirt at first. He found ways of making lots of money, some I didn’t know about but I just went along, not asking too many questions. Felt that he’d tell me if he wanted me to know. First time he was put inside, I was suddenly destitute. The police don’t care, you know, dear.

          “But I managed. And then he got early parole, the prisons were too crowded, or there was an illness…I can’t even remember. Then he was with me and the parole officer was sticking his ugly…and it was **_ug-ly_** , believe me! …nose in every morning, noon and night. But eventually he got bored or there were people he could frighten more easily, and then Byron started making money again, but he’d made some good, strong, secure contacts when he was on the inside. Don’t know what he did for them, but they trusted him and trained him and this time he made money and kept it and even when they charged him, it was all kept safe for me.”

June paused. She loved Neal, but hesitated to offer advice. Everyone offered Neal advice! “You and Steel seem to have an understanding of sorts?”

“Mmm.”

“You think it’s safe to trust him?”

Neal glanced up, his bright blue eyes solemn. Diana may have thought he always played the boy, but he often seemed an old soul to June when he let his masks drop.

“June, dear, I think so. You know how bank tellers learn to tell a second rate counterfeit note? Feel real ones often enough, it becomes second nature to feel the false. I have felt false friendship and love, so often…and I know this isn’t US currency we have here…but I think he’s a genuinely good man, trying to do the best he can.

          “And if he isn’t, if he has nefarious designs he is at present keeping a secret, the more we can make him like us, the better off we’ll be in the long run. You know, it’s just like a kidnapping victim trying to make their kidnappers see them as **_people,_** not just something to trade for money, or kill.”

“I can’t see the reason he would have to try to be nice to us for this length of time,” June admitted. “I hope you are right. I hope, if he can, he will get us home and not keep us here.”

          “You must miss your gorgeous house?” Neal asked.

          “Yes, of course, Byron’s love fills it for me. But if there’s anything immortal, he’s here with us right now.”

          “Tell him to look after your house and his – now my – hats!” Neal chuckled.

          “If you stay, you’ll have to get used to those woolly hats and fur hats they wear here: no Fedoras, anywhere!”

          “Almost enough in itself to make me flee back to Earth! And you, sweet June, are the only person here who really understands. We’re never the same, after prison. Never.”

          “I know, dear.

          “Well, eventually, Byron fell off the radar. I’m not saying he was ever _straight!_ " Neal laughed, she had said it quickly as though she didn’t want him to think poorly of Byron!            “But the policemen changed, retired, he was older, they didn’t seem to think of him as much. And he wasn’t as obvious, he was careful and smart about his crimes. Fun to jump out of windows and make a splash when you’re twenty, thirty, forty…not sixty! Less return, less risk…rather like the world’s investments!”

Neal scrunched his nose. “Computers don’t retire, they don’t forget.”

          “No, dear. I know.

          “Oh, see that big blue one! It wants some of your meat!”

          “Yeah, or the little yellow one as an appetiser! Hey, Big Blue Bully-fish, come over here!”

 

Neal tried very hard to go and dance with June, or sing with her on the terrace, wrapped up against the evening chill. But Mozzie had much more time to spend with her. Mozzie made packs of playing cards, and the royalty were all great criminals…most of whom June had never heard of.

          “Only the stupid get caught, June,” Mozzie had chuckled.

          “So no Neal?”

          “I made Neal a Jack…short for jackass. Here! Blue eyes and a dunce cap! He was being, you know, when he was caught. You wouldn’t believe how careless!”

          “And no Mozzie?”

          “No, other than Neal, they’re all passed away. The Suits haven’t seen these, but I wouldn’t want to put them on anyone’s trail if we do get back!”

          Other than spending time with June, Mozzie was continuing to design high-wind-speed windmills and other machines that might be useful to Steel. It wasn’t really invention, he could remember details of things he’d seen and could extrapolate those he hadn’t. He worked with Neal on several projects. They were so in tune after all these years that it was one of the most rewarding pastimes, often not speaking, working on separate parts of an idea, then sharing over a glass of wine.

          They sometimes used the studio if the project was very big, but there was another quite large room off the studio where Mozzie liked to keep his endeavours and schemes and paperwork separate from Neal’s art- and schoolwork. He said the smell of some of the paints made the wine taste funny. And that just wasn’t funny at all.

          One of the things they’d started right at the beginning, was a plan of the castle. It was vast and complex, with six main levels, if one counted the two dungeons! And that didn’t include the farm buildings and barns and outbuildings and sheds and things, which is why they hadn’t at first located the barn wine cellar! Mozzie needed Neal to help with accurate measurements and to jog through some of the larger areas and take notes. It was very useful that Neal could go and purchase large pieces of paper and something that was between velum and tracing paper that worked wonderfully for the ‘blueprints’.

 

And Steel, unaware of all the complex emotions plaguing Peter, and not yet understanding the depths and convolutions of Earthlings’ thoughts, beliefs and emotions, decided that finding Neal and Mozzie had learned Sheel was going to be the last surprise he would have about his new slaves for a while. They had a lot to learn and were fitting themselves into the Keep community well.

He liked them all and respected them, in part because they were so different to most other people he had dealt with - and different one from another! They fascinated him with their ability to become depressed over little things or suddenly rise to the occasion and enjoy something with such zest! But he hoped they would all be peaceful and get on with the work and everyone else for a while. He had plans to make.

 

End of Chapter 16...

 

Chapter 17 will be posted soon, but I needed this bit to bridge 15 to 17 and not leave any gaps. (Thanks to all the wonderful, faithful readers, with their insightful comments.)

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Night: Quiet and Dark...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal can't sleep. His wanderings put him in an awkward situation.

 

 

 

Other than the Watch, everyone had gone to bed one night when Neal woke, restless. This wasn’t unusual. Sometimes, especially when he became over-tired, the silence and the darkness seemed almost oppressive.  Prison had never been quiet or dark and New York, while feeling like home, certainly wasn't either! Here they sometimes seemed alive.

          He wandered through the castle, avoiding the nightwatchmen without effort. He got out the stilts from where they were hidden and hurried into the studio. He looked over the four paintings he was working on, thinking of the next layers, glazes, or shadings. He uncovered and frowned at a sculpture he had started and resolved to turn it back into a blob when he had more time. He turned off the lights and looked out over the night fields and the beautiful, bright alien sky.

 

          One of the things that had made all the Earthlings feel weird at first was the fact that the stars really looked different from the stars seen from anywhere on Earth. There was little bright light from the humans, so they could be seen and seemed noticeably brighter than stars even from the middle of an Earth desert. It made it abundantly clear that they weren’t in Kansas any more! They were living under an alien sky!

          Neal and Mozzie had watched them, found books about them, become friendly with the bright, sparkling canopy.

          Mozzie had told Neal a long story about finding himself outside at night with a pocketful of diamonds near Kimberley in the Cape, about it being so dry there was none of the moss on trees that is supposed to tell North from South - - and it would be the opposite there, since the sun is always North of the zenith at noon - and that he'd had to work from memory and the Southern Cross to find his way before pursuit, in the form of three large and angry brothers with large and loaded guns, had discovered him.

          Neal smiled at the images it formed in his mind. Since Mozzie's memory was eidetic, it probably had been more a scare for him than a real danger.

          He went through and pulled out the castle blueprints. Mozzie had been muttering. Mozzie often muttered. And usually when he did, even when he was without any pertinent data, his intuition was proven correct. He had been gazing at the dungeons, the second level. Which was odd, because they were simple: two huge rooms, basically, all the way under the castle and even beyond.

          In the upper level there were cells of sorts, storerooms, woodstore and coal store, what would have been an enormous utility room in an Earth home, which housed the gas generation and so on…which went all the way through the second dungeon and into some kind of container even lower…and then the laundry, wine cellar and root cellar and so on.

          The rest of the first dungeon had apparently not housed prisoners or criminals for a long time, but had been given over to the prosaic chore of drying laundry when the weather was too poor to hang it outside or even on balconies and covered verandas. Mozzie and Neal couldn’t really see that the second, deepest dungeon got any real use at all at present, other than the fact that it held the well, a huge wooden-covered affair, and enormous storage tanks for water, always full.

          They had drawn the second dungeon to a smaller scale, as there seemed to be so little to be documented there, other than what appeared ancient stuff stored on shelves in bottles and bags, covered with dust and that Neal had not even had time to ask Moz about. But…he looked back at the sheet with the first dungeon diagrammed on it. Hmm. He got out their ruler and started going back and forth, correcting for the scale difference. Suddenly, he knew. The distances weren’t right! There was a small anomaly. Mozzie was correct, as usual! Now he should just go to bed and sleep. He could look tomorrow.

          He stilted out, and went to his room. He got into bed, feeling a little cold. He turned over onto his side and snuggled, missing a bed-mate. He liked sex, really liked it, but he seemed to miss the physical contact and love more. He turned over again, shovelled his pillow back and forth, trying to get it right. What the heck was wrong with him today? – tonight!

          “I’ll just go and see if I can find the discrepency,” he thought. “It’s not a school night, I’m home tomorrow. I can catch a nap at lunchtime if necessary, and Mozzie will be so pleased!”

          He got up and dressed again, slipped on his shoes and padded off towards the kitchens. Not too long afterwards he was holding up a light at the very far end of the second dungeons…he prodded and scratched with his fingers – and there it was, a door with no handle! He smiled and, just for fun, edged his fingernails into the minute crack of the door where it met the jamb, and pulled…and it opened!

          He stepped back in surprise! These doors never opened like that. It wasn’t some special door to Steel’s rooms, or passageways or whatever. This was a different door-without-a-handle! Unique! Perhaps what it hid was extra special, too? He held up his light and peered in…spiderwebs. Lots of spiderwebs, strands back and forth, most thickly dust-coated, some orb-webs, also old and dirty. But a tunnel! A tunnel, going upwards. Were there stairs there at the edge of his vision? He looked at his light, and thought, “It won’t take long! I’ll just go and see where it ends, so I can give Moz the whole story!”

It was a much longer passageway than he’d anticipated!

 

 

 

          He struggled up off the floor, put out his hands in the black darkness and walked forward carefully. His left hand found a door, he slid his hand along it, staggered through the doorway and was suddenly assaulted by **_light._** He shielded his eyes, and, to his utter horror, saw before him a mighty warrior, an angel of light or darkness. Neal had seen Lord Steel irritated, annoyed, even angered, but he had never seen him bathed in **_fury,_** striding towards him, more than half-naked, **_huge_ ,** brandishing a sword and dagger, radiating power, promising retribution.

          Neal reacted from pure instinct. He fell to his knees, folded his body, crouched his head to the floor and wrapped his arms around his head.

There was absolute silence, other than Neal’s hammering heart, for what seemed like an eternity.

          Steel realised who it was, partly by the alert-but-not-attacking dogs, realised that Neal’s involuntary action had been one either of total submission or merely the urge to achieve some form most likely to shield the more vulnerable ventral surfaces. His energy refolded itself and he said, sternly, his voice loud but not overpowering.  

          “What are you doing here? Who let you into my suite?”

          Only Jarad could enter his personalised door-locks; he’d de-keyed Elijah and Caleb from them as soon as their papers had been proven before the Military search party. Jarad was living quite a long distance away across the range of mountains!

          When there was no answer, he asked insistently, “Who let you in? Answer me!”

          “No-one, my Lord,” Neal whispered.

          Steel further observed the completely filthy state Neal was in. Had Neal been shielding, it would have been almost impossible to tell who he was! “How did you get here! Where have you been!”

          Steel, now that his reaction was fading, knew he was going to have to reassure the Earthling, or nothing useful would be accomplished. He could hear Neal’s heart thudding, his emotions overflowing his ability to think clearly. What exactly had Neal seen?

          “Neal, I am not going to hurt you. Look at me! You startled me, that is all. I thought you were an assassin.”

          There was another pause, and he heard Neal’s vital signs calm a little, and then his head came up and he looked at Steel, saw him to be the man he’d been dealing with for many fifty-days, and cautiously lifted his shoulders.

          “I am not, my Lord. I did not mean to…I was not intending…” He swallowed, knelt up, sitting on on his heels and said, “Lord Steel, I swear, I wasn’t sure where the passage led.”

          To Steel, Neal now looked very much like one of the puppies Des and Dam had been, hair everywhere, quite incredibly filthy, sitting still, subdued, knowing that the Master was displeased and not quite sure why, not quite sure if they were going to get a swat for their behaviour. He suddenly had a strong desire to swat the recalcitrant puppy!

          “How did you get so filthy? What passage?”

          Neal looked down and up again. “I must warn you…” He gaped, struggled, tried again, “I must warn you…”

          Then, to Steel’s alarm, Neal’s face twisted into a pained grimace, he struggled, breathed through his mouth, closed his eyes tightly…and _sneezed!_ He looked helplessly at Steel, and sneezed again.

          “Sorry, my – oh, dear – ”

          “Get to your feet,” Steel said, placing the sword and dagger on the bed, and going to Neal. But the thick layer of dust made him pause. As did a truly enormous spider on Neal’s shoulder. “You know about the spider?” he asked Neal. Neal glanced sideways.

          “Open — the window—” Neal asked, between mighty sneezes, took a deep breath through his mouth, screwed up his nose and his eyes, held his breath and carefully picked the spider off his shoulder with both hands, scrambled up, hurried to the window and tossed the thing out onto the sill as Steel opened it, and hurried back and knelt again before having to breathe – and sneeze – again. And again. He was shedding dust at every move.

          “This can _not_ be good for you!” Steel exclaimed. “Take off…no, that will just spread it! Get into the shower! Take off the clothes and dampen them, and shower, I will go and get you a change of clothes. And then, Neal, I want an explanation!”

          Steel pulled on a top and pants and hurried out. On his journey, Steel wondered if the sneezes were some sort of act, intended to throw him off the scent and allow Neal to disappear again! Perhaps with something valuable he could put his hand on! But by the time Steel got back with what seemed a reasonable set of clothes for Neal – having observed yet another Steel Keep original hanging in Neal’s private gallery – Neal had cleaned up the mess and himself and was sitting on the long couch with the dogs, one towel round his middle and using another to dry his hair. Dam was licking the moisture off his shoulder with apparent enjoyment and a long, broad, purple tongue.

          Steel put the clothes on the end of his bed and sat next to them. “Can you now tell me what the **_hell_ ** you are doing in my private suite of rooms, Neal?” he asked, trying not to sound too dangerous, and yet wanting to impress upon the Earthling the severity of the crime.

          “It was as much a surprise to me as to you, my Lord,” Neal said, putting the hair-towel down and looking pretty much as Des and Dam pups had looked after a bath: Cute, dishevelled, damp and un-smackable. “Well, until I saw you, and then I was _very_ surprised. Shocked, actually. Sorry about that.”

Steel could feel that it was an act. Neal was still very shaken.

          “You woke me, no-one is supposed to be in here, ever: I responded. You are lucky that you reacted as you did. My reflexes are – perhaps – ”

          “Over-tightly-wound, Lord! I thought you were going to kill me!”

          “Oh, I was. Only your quick-thinking and the dogs’ lack of hostility saved you.”

          Neal didn’t answer, just looked at Steel with an unreadable expression. Then he said, “You are more like Peter than an alien has a right to be. He’s just the same, hair-trigger reflexes in the middle of the night. Survival instincts.”

          “As yours!” Steel gestured towards the floor.

          “Pure terror and cowardice, my Lord, as you well know.”

          “Either your brains or your instincts saved your silly life. Now tell me – why are you here and how are you here, and what midden – dusty midden! – did you crawl through to get here!”

          Neal had had time to consider his options. None of them were very good. He’d messed up and Mozzie wasn’t going to be pleased. But there was no way out of this….without him losing some skin, and he was partial to his skin staying intact. He could admit to having broken in, or plead that it was an accident. Which it was, but being the truth didn’t necessarily recommend a story, after all!

          Steel watched him fight with himself, and grinned a little _. Let us see what Neal comes up with this time…_ _Curse!_ he thought, _I am Peter again!_

          Neal sighed and went, not without reluctance, with the truth. “Ummm, Mozzie and I have been making a plan of your castle. For reference, and research.” He glanced up through his damp fringe to see if Steel was buying it. No help. Steel just watched. “It’s a lovely castle, my Lord,” he offered. Still nothing. Neal sighed again. “Well, we noticed, of course, your emergency escape routes.”

          “Mmmhmm?”

          “Yes. Three from your suite, for example. We – er – confirmed by finding the entrances, the other ends, no handles or anything, so they open as this main door does, very nice.”

          “Mmm.”

 _Damn him with his mmm’s!_ Neal thought, and continued, “And there are lots of other neat tunnels and routes and things. Then tonight I found another. Or where another should be.”

          Steel raised his eyebrows. Neal grimaced, and gave in. “The walls aren’t the right distance apart, my Lord.”

          “You have measured everything that accurately?”

          “Wherever possible, my Lord.”

          “Go on.”

          “Pointless to do it unless you are going to do it properly.” Neal said, hesitantly.

          “Yes, I see that.”

          “So I came to find it.”

          “In the middle of the night.”

          “Um…yes, my Lord.”        

          “Rather than sleeping.”

          “I tried, but I couldn’t. So I thought I’d put the time to good use instead of tossing about.”

          “Of course.”

          “Well, once you know it’s there…!”

          “I do understand the urge to – what would you say – discover the prize?”

          “Yes, exactly! It took me a while to find the door, and it didn’t have a door handle or anything, but it opened! It hadn’t been in a long time, it’s very well concealed and in an area I doubt anyone uses now. I wondered if it was just a priest’s hole…um, some small place to hide a fugitive for a short time? But it went along, and then up and wound around and it was so dirty and filled with spider webs and eventually my light gave out, but – but there hadn’t been any dangerous drops or holes in the floor, so I carefully continued. But with the dirt and the dark, and the curving stairs and – and – well, I was so turned around – confused? – I wasn’t sure where I was coming to. Then the passageway stopped at a stone wall!” He looked at Steel, inviting comment.

          “Frustrating.”

          “Yes! Exactly! Very! But I didn’t just want to turn and go back!”

          “No-one would.”

          “I don’t think so. So I wandered back a little way, in case there was a side-tunnel, but I’d been pretty thorough. I came back to the dead end. Then I felt around my feet and everywhere I could reach and found some hand-holds. Small dents. In the wall.”

          “Which you again felt you could not resist.”

          “Who could?”

Steel looked as though he felt Neal should have, but said nothing.

          “So, my Lord, I climbed up and there was a space and it went up and up and up, and then it stopped. And then I found that there was a narrow tunnel going sideways…I could just crawl…and then it came to a dead end.”

          “Again.”

          “Again! And the further I came, the less I wanted to go back.”

          “Understandable.”

          “And I found a rope-ladder-thing, I suppose to enable someone to climb down that shaft I’d climbed up.”

          “For someone who needed egress but was of a personality and perhaps a physique less likely to climb out of very tall bell-towers?”

          “Are you making fun of me, my Lord?” Neal was suddenly suspicious.

          “Never, Neal!”

          “Oh! Well, when I felt off to the side, there was a wall that wasn’t stone, it was wood. So I sort of leaned against it and – er – fell through it.”

          “Surprising.” Steel’s voice was devoid of emotion, but he knew quite well that the leaning had been more like pushing, Neal using much of his strength and that he would have used more if necessary!

          “I was surprised! I landed on a stone floor, but it was still completely dark…and now I was even further along and I wanted even less to—”

          “I have come to anticipate this reaction. Go on.”

          “So I carefully stood up and walked forward, and there was a doorway and I came through it – and the lights came on and a huge, angry alien was about to kill me. So I – er – ducked.”

          Steel and his errant slave looked at each other for a time. Then the Lord said, “So there is a hole in my…”

          “Bathroom. Yes. I am sorry, my Lord. In the lower part of the wall, under the cupboard. It wasn’t intentional. And I’ve tried to clean up the mess a little. I need more equipment.”

          Steel just sat, wondering what he could do to this man of great ability and no sense of self-preservation or normalcy or caution – or something! – to stop him doing these things!

          “I thought you were too busy with the school and the art and your tasks and so on...”

          “Yes, very busy. This was just a little diversion, you know? To relax?”

          “I see.” Steel sighed internally. There was never going to be anything to keep these two busy enough not to cause strange and surprising happenings. He felt that punishment of any form wouldn’t do any good, either. As Peter said, they would feel it was unfair and resent it! However, discounting the failure as a behaviour modification technique, it would still be very, very satisfying to himself!

         “And – and Lord Steel, it is very important that we found it for you!” Neal leaned forward, his eyes alight with enthusiasm and hope of reprieve, some of it fake.

          “Yes?”

          “Yes, indeed, my Lord! You need to key the door, or seal it! _Anyone_ could have come up that passageway!”

          “Yes, anyone did! In the middle of the night, too!”

          “I mean someone with intent to do you harm, my Lord! You know I don’t like violence and I do like you, so there was no danger. And it’s actually quite near morning.”

          “I nearly killed _you_ , you silly _puppy!”_

         Neal looked a little confused at the epithet and sat back, hiding between the dogs, alarmed. Both the dogs turned to look reproachfully at Steel.

          Steel shook his head again. “And the fact that it is near morning is even more irritating! I cannot think exactly what to do right now.

"You need to dress.”

                    Neal stood up, a little shy in front of this alien. He turned his back and the Lord uttered impulsively, “Lira healed those awful scars!” Neal turned as Steel backed a step and prepared to get back into bed. He pulled off the soft top, and sat…on the hilt of his dagger. He said nothing, but it was extremely uncomfortable.

          Neal turned away hurriedly and Steel said, his voice really dangerous, “If you say _one_ word, and if you _dare_ laugh, Lucilla will be most displeased with you!” Neal peered one blue eye over his shoulder. “I shall beat the clothes off your body, you insolent, inquisitive, reckless, boisterous, undomesticated, nosy, ill-disciplined, over-active, roaming, disrespectful, intrusive, messy, restless, _prying_ slave!”

          Neal dressed, carefully not looking back at the large main bed. Steel ordered peremptorily, “For your sins you will take that blanket and curl up in the doorway between the bedroom and the bathroom, thus providing some small additional protection: any intruder following the route you have discovered and left open may fall over you or, greatly preferable in my opinion, step on you!”

          Neal nodded, not looking at Steel, and settled down with apparent and regrettable comfort. Neal had slept on hard surfaces before.

          And it could have been _**much**_ worse! Some quite insane part of him had wanted to point out that if he was ill-disciplined, Steel only had himself to blame, but fortunately Steel had already forbade any further communication from him.

          The room went dark. Neal lay thinking that it was nice that now Mozzie and himself knew how the lights worked, what made the stoves and generators and things work. All wonderfully sensible and clean processes. Much better than most on Earth.

          Steel lay trying to sleep. A quite insane part of _him_ wanted to laugh and laugh at the ridiculous interaction with Neal. Another part of him had a appallingly powerful lingering wish to take his razor-strop to this young man who was so world-weary in some ways and so like an excitable, mischievous boy in many others!

          Then there were some rustles and hisses, scruffles and scratches.

          He brought the lights back on and looked over at the doorway to the bathroom. Three pairs of bright blue eyes, Neal’s between the two dogs’, looked back, all a little apprehensive.

          “What are you …?”

          Neal looked more concerned, his eyes widened, but he didn’t speak. Steel clenched his jaw and resolutely turned off the lights. His weakening self-control was being sorely tested.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 17

 

Well, I enjoyed this chapter! Hope you did, too

 

 

 

 


	18. Peregrinations underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal has to show his Lord how he broke into his suite, has to fix the mess he made, has to explain his error to Mozzie and has to share their plans with Steel.

 

 

 

When Steel woke, the three young animals were curled up together on the floor. The cushions from the dogs’ couch were under them, the blanket over part of them. Neal was smiling a little in his sleep, his fists full of Des’ fur, cuddled between the big, soft, black creatures. Steel dressed quickly, and the dogs watched but did not move. Then he walked over. He looked beyond them to the end of the bathroom, where there was, indeed, a smallish entryway with quite a bit of debris on the floor surrounding it, though it looked as though Neal had tried to sweep it into a small pile.

          “Useless dogs!” he muttered to them. “I suppose this is because he sits with you on the floor, and gave you that lovely piece of meat!” They flattened their ears affectionately.

          Steel nudged Neal in the ribs, none-too-gently, with the toe of his boot. Rather than waking in alarm, Neal stretched languidly, tousled Dam’s and then Des’ ears and looked up at Steel out of one eye, partly obscured by a dark curl of his own hair.

          “Oh, hallo, my Lord…oh! I found your secret passageway!”

          “You did. How did you end up sleeping on the dogs’ cushions?”

          “Cushions…oh, they must have pulled them off when they decided to join me, my Lord.”

          “Mmm. Anyone ever up early enough to catch you out, Neal?”

          “My Lord?” He struggled to his knees.

          “And another thing, there is going to be rampant speculation if anyone realises I was bringing you fresh clothing to my rooms in the middle of the night –” he saw Neal open his mouth and corrected, “ – or in the early hours of the morning!”

          “It’s all right, my Lord, I don’t really care what people think of me. I’m a criminal, after all!” He got up, shook himself off and collected and replaced the dogs’ cushions, petting the huge beasts.

          “Yes, and I suppose you can throw that at me; I bought you in spite of your warnings! And I am sorry to disappoint you, but I had not the least concern about your reputation!”

          Neal blinked. “I know **_we’ve_** been living a sort of unusual life, my Lord, but surely your society doesn’t….surely it wouldn’t be thought odd, unusual… I thought royalty sort of had their pick of…surely you’ve had lots of people, I mean – girls – or boys – I mean, one girl or one boy at a time – um. I’ll just shut up, now.”

          “That is a lesson I wish you would learn and not continually forget.”

          “Sorry, my Lord.” Neal drooped convincingly.

          “Go to breakfast, Neal.”

          “My Lord?”

          “Yes, Neal.”

          “Am I to infer that you’d rather I didn’t mention our meeting at all?”

          Steel shut his eyes. Now he was going to give this criminal material for later blackmail? Then he looked at Neal and shrugged. “It might be easier not to mention it. It is an exceptionally long and involved story.”

          “And makes me look like a fool and a coward, so I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you, my Lord.”

          “Mmm. And after breakfast, I shall call on you and you will show me the other end of this extremely dirty and dusty passageway, and I will key the door. Then, Neal, you will come in here and clean up the bathroom and construct a new fake wooden panel to the bottom of the cupboard.”

          Neal’s face was a study in slightly reluctant compliance, but Steel added, “And you will not be alone, do not think it, Neal. Brak will be here with you.” If Neal’s face changed, Steel couldn’t detect it.

          They walked along the corridor together and eventually Neal said, “You could trust me, my Lord.”

          Steel glanced over. “I could. I choose not to put your tenuous subservience to the test, however. I deem it unfair.”

          Neal glanced right at him, obviously annoyed. Steel stopped him with a hand on his arm and looked directly at him in turn. “Neal, there are many valuable and interesting things in my suite. It is the heart of the Keep, no matter what Ophera tells you about the kitchen! I am quite sure that, even without an idea of malfeasance, you would find it impossible not to indulge your curiosity. Not all of the items you may stumble upon are safe for you to handle, however, even **_if_** your intention was to return them undamaged and un-copied.”

          Neal grinned a little. He nodded. He left Steel to go and fix his rumpled hair and sleep-crumpled clothing. He slipped in and neither Mozzie nor Caleb saw him.

 

 

          After breakfast, when all the others had gone to do their tasks, Neal found Steel and Brak in the study and led his Lord down to the second level of dungeons.

          It was completely dark except for the small light they each carried that Neal had thoughtfully supplied. They then walked what seemed to Steel the entire length of the dungeon. They approached the end wall that looked solid, but when Neal led him to the extreme right side of it, there was a narrow opening, invisible till one was right atop it, and the dungeon continued on the other side of the cross-wall. Neal lead the way and Steel watched him, dismayed at his complete confidence. He knew this part of the Keep far better than Steel, who had not even been aware that this huge hidden area was there!

          They passed many things, some discarded and damaged, some that might be useful. Old casks, boxes and shelving containing who knew what lined the walls. It was covered in dust and spider-webs, and the only spoor seemed to be Neal’s footsteps around the perimeter and across the diagonal they were walking now. There was a slightly odd smell that Steel couldn’t place.

          Neal hopped over rusty ironwork and broken furniture, much of which looked to be generations old! - and there was a small corner jutting into the room. On the hidden side of that was the door Neal had discovered, again almost impossible to see until within steps of it even though he had left it open.

          “This is the door, my Lord. And it obviously is to be used if the Lord of the Keep needs to escape and he would then use the secret exit behind the wall there to get to the tunnel and leave the Keep and come up far from the outer walls.” Neal waved casually at the true end of the dungeons, where stone had been cut away. It all looked as though it was hewn from the living rock and solid, but Neal seemed to think there was the start of a passageway there.

          Steel was unsure of an appropriate response. He keyed the door from the inside and locked it, and Neal nodded. “Good!” he said.

          “That must have been there since the Keep was built, but for generations no Steel has keyed it!” Steel muttered, a little dismayed. He was unaware of his father’s or his grandfather’s impression on the keypad, and it must have been many generations that no Steel had touched it for all to have faded. It had been an unprotected entrance to his suite, and only this irritating pair of Earthlings had found it!

          There was a silence. And underground, the silence was profound and absolute. They could easily hear their breathing, echoing off the stone, their slow heartbeats. Steel _reached_ and found Neal strangely calm, contented.

          Then, feeling his regard, Neal looked up, the blue glinting in his eyes, before looking down. He shifted his weight, was about to take a step away when Steel stopped him. Neal looked up, enquiring.

          “You want to ask no questions, Neal?”

          “No, my Lord.”

          There was a pause. Steel made up his mind and asked, “What exactly did you see last night?”

          “I told you the story, Lord.”

          “Yes. You told me, but perhaps you chose not to tell all?”

          Neal was quiet. “What do you want me to say, my Lord?”

          “The truth. No-one is here. Tell me what you saw, or thought you saw.”

          Neal’s submissive stance left. He looked directly at Steel, open and confident. “You are not the young, good-looking, rather casual man you showed all of us, and still show to all of us. Or perhaps you are, but that is far from all you are.

          “I don’t know exactly what to say you are, but I think you could, if you chose, break us each in little pieces without breaking a sweat. Perhaps you could smash planets!- I cannot tell. I also know not if you are alone in this…alter ego?...or if all of the people of your planet can do this shape-shifting. I think that perhaps we Earthlings are very primitive or simple compared to your species, or you think we are. Probably we are. Like small children, or pets. Which is why you collect us, protect us.”

          Steel looked down, this time. He said, sadly, “I am sorry you saw that.”

          “One day, if I get back to Earth, I will paint it. People will think it is fantasy.”

          “You are not afraid? We are alone, no-one knows we are here. You are very much at my mercy. One touch and my secret is safe.”

          Neal smiled. “ _Think_ , my Lord! Peter says I’m mad because I climb around hundreds of feet from the ground without a harness or net; because I jump out of windows and off bridges; because I am a criminal and often indulge in behaviours that end in life-threatening situations. He concludes I am insane or truly do not understand the authenticity of death. He never imagines that it holds no fear for me.

          “Perhaps,” he looked away across the darkness, “it even lures me. And to be enfolded, possessed, absorbed, _consumed_ by the light…!” His eyes glittered weirdly into Steel’s. “I have faced with equanimity far more sordid ends, my Lord.

          “I do not fear you, Lord. Your furled power is further proof of your gentleness. Your heart is still pure, my allegiance still stands. I am yours while we are here, and perhaps more, however little that might mean to you.”

          Steel felt his heart move strangely, an experience new to him. There seemed nothing else for either of them to say, no other words that ever needed to be spoken, by anyone, anywhere. They stood close, not touching. He realised they were breathing together, calm, content, together.

 _This is love_ he thought, surprised. Two men from different parts of the universe, different species, standing still and quiet in a dark and secret place, needing nothing from each other. No tension between them. He breathed it in. They stood for what seemed like a long time.

          Hating to change the slightest part of this experience, he eventually took the small step that brought him up against Neal, lifted his chin and kissed the shorter man’s forehead. Then he hugged him gently, released him and said, simply, “Thank you. In return for your fealty, my protection.”

          All at once, Neal grinned at him, teeth brilliant in the dim. “And you scoffed at my ability to find a father!”

          He responded to the lightened mood, regretting the loss of the other. “Oh, if you were my son, how much better disciplined you would be!”

          Neal thought a moment, grinned again and went with, “Nah! You enjoy the fact that you never know what I next will do!”

          They walked back the way they had come. “Neal, trust me in this: if you fall uninvited into my suite in the middle of the night, or ever again, you will realise how _very_ wrong you are! I _promise!_ ”

          They parted ways at the kitchen and Neal felt he’d managed pretty well and walked purposefully but not quickly away, not looking back, intent on making his getaway. Then Steel called over his shoulder, “Oh, and Neal, forget not that you are going up to my cupboard, now? I will expect a man of your talents to do a very pretty job. I would also like to see the project that you and Sir Mozzie were working on that started all this excitement. I should be free this evening.”

 

Neal’s heart fell.

 

 

          Neal had an awkward conversation with Mozzie a while later.

          “You did **_what?”_**

          “I didn’t mean to do anything of the kind! I just – I just wanted to follow the passage, see where it went…I didn’t think it would lead to his quarters! It didn’t have a keyed door! And I had to fix the opening in the cupboard! With Brak grinning like a gargoyle all the time and making sure I didn’t have any fun!”

          “Gargoyles seldom grin! And poor you! You burst your way into the **_Lord’s bathroom!”_**

          “Unintentionally…well, I just wanted to see where it went! Do you know how far I had to climb up that stupid chimney with just little, crumbly hand-holds?”

          “Again I say – poor you! You do that for fun on Saturday nights in New York!”

          “Well, actually, Saturday is not the best night, too many people about…Monday – “

          “So your crazy curiosity just got us made!”

          “And he ordered me to sleep on the cold stone floor! Even his dogs sleep on a couch!”

          “I didn’t risk anything and I have to give up my hard work! And you’ve slept in wet drain-pipes to get a jump start on a break-in!”

          “For a prize! Sandawana Emeralds in that instance, I believe. And I never said it was comfortable!”

          They looked at each other. They were good friends, they didn’t scowl, but neither was happy.

          Neal sighed. “I’m truly sorry, Moz. I thought it would be fun to tell you that you were right and where the passageway led...I think our plans would have been complete!”

          Mozzie nodded. Then, “He didn’t say he wanted all the copies, did he?”

          Neal sat up. “No! He didn’t!”

          “Come on, then! I wish we had a piece of glass big enough for a light-table, but at least this is almost as good as tracing paper. I’ll do the second dungeon!”

          “Oh! The easiest –”

          Mozzie held up a hand. “You **_are_** getting off easy, Neal!”

          “All right! Give me the first dungeon!”

 

          Steel was actually very impressed with the cupboard renovation! Neal had created not just a cover, but a concealed door that he could then add the right essentials to key from the inside, or the outside, or leave it as it was. It did not look as though it concealed anything but some plumbing. It was painted and Neal had told Brak that if the Lord wanted, he could do another coat, or even some design on the wood.

          So he was in a good mood when he met Sir Mozzie and Neal in his study after dinner. Sir Mozzie and Steel both carried tubes of plans, and Neal grinned. It felt like an FBI sting, where they were going to swindle some poor Russian (or more like Swedish or Norwegian in this case) out of his plans by swopping them with incorrect ones! Or where Moz and Neal were swopping out someone’s real Van Gogh with one of his own forgeries!

          Mozzie, despite the fact that he had stashed away the better representation of the plans of the main buildings of Steel Keep, still looked moody.

          “I have my plans here, Sir Mozzie, can we compare?”

          Mozzie felt a little mollified. Steel wasn’t just going to swipe their work! He was going to share, too!

          They laid out the uppermost floor plans, and all scanned back and forth. Mozzie had neglected a tiny window…for the simple reason that no-one could have climbed through it, not even his skinny self…but otherwise they were identical as far as information. Steel’s plans were many, many generations old on yellowed parchment, irregular edges, and probably worth quite a lot in the correct market! They had been added to at times, different hands had made notations, different inks faded differently..

          “These are excellent!” Steel said, smoothing his hand over the Earthling’s work. “Am I to assume I supplied the paper?”

          “We have to practise architectural drawing and plan-making, my Lord, at school,” Neal said, calmly. “I will not, of course, hand this in, for security purposes. This was just a complex problem on which to practise.”

          “Mmmhmm,” Steel said, not looking up. Mozzie made a face at Neal.

          They went through every level. The modern equivalent had several features the older plans lacked.

          Steel cleared his throat. “You said the passageway you found ended near the entrance to another, about here?” he asked, pointing.

          “Mmm.” Mozzie watched him. “Useful to know. How much is it worth to you?”

          “No, Mozzie,” Neal said, making the other two men turn in surprise. “I gave my allegiance. No deals.”

          Steel’s eyes widened, teasing. “Does that mean that you would tell me all those secrets kept hidden from Peter all these years?”

          Mozzie made a sharp sound, but Neal answered, calmly, “Yes. If you want me to. They aren’t all that useful to you, my Lord, unless you plan to destroy me and you don’t.”

          “You know that how?” Mozzie demanded, and Steel nodded, also asking.

          “You gave me your protection,” Neal said, simply. Steel smiled.

          “So what crimes have you perpetrated since you landed here?” he asked.

          Mozzie put his hands to his head.

          “Well, we regularly help ourselves to your wine,” Neal told Steel. “And – ”

          “Steel, you cannot do this! This isn’t fair!” Mozzie burst in. “You’ve drugged him or something…even with Kate he was never like this! Stop it!”

          “Neal, stop telling me the things you have done that I might not approve,” Steel commanded, and Neal smiled at him boyishly.   He said, “I told you that you enjoy the surprises.”

          Steel patted the modern plans. “I would like a copy of these, if you would make them?”

          Mozzie’s eyebrows rose. They had already made duplicates, of course, and he had deliberately written things on those he was planning to keep so that he could tell Steel, in all honesty, that there were no copies...

          “And I would like you to show me this passage, and this one and these hiding places, neither of which are on my plans, and perhaps draw them in on the originals?”

          “Gladly, my Lord,” Neal said.

          “And what would you like in return?”

          Neal and Mozzie glanced at each other. Mozzie cleared his throat and said, “You are unexpected, Lord Steel.” Neal grinned, Lord Steel raised his eyebrows. “We do not want payment or anything at this time, but we may ask for your help later, if that would be acceptable to your Lordship.”

          “Anything I can give. Thank you.’

          “You have already done so much for us…all the Earthlings. Anything we do is small payment,” Neal said, and rather reluctantly, Mozzie nodded.

          Steel rose, pushing his plans towards Neal. “Keep the style if you would, Neal, when you make the alterations. Oh, walk with me a little way?”

          Neal rose and followed, leaving Mozzie to roll up all the sets of plans. When they were alone in the corridor, he said, quietly. “Neal, I am asking you to keep my secret…except from Sir Mozzie. You do not need to tell him, there is no reason and it may upset him, but if you should decide to do so, tell him. You trust him, I trust you.”

          “Yes, my Lord. Don’t trust me just because I confessed about a few bottles of wine, however.”

          “No, Neal, I do not! I trust you not at all with the little things. I trust you wholly with the important things.”

          “And in like manner I am to trust your protection in the big things, but not necessarily the little things? Such as the repercussions of invading your rooms, again, ever?”

          “I do appreciate my slaves being able to make clever deductions all on their own.”

          Neal grinned at him, touched the man’s arm lightly with two fingers and walked back towards the study.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 18

Sorry, computer went a little strange. Hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for the comments and criticisms.

 


	19. Sharing Secrets, Building Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie comes across Steel alone late at night and approaches him. The only two freemen in the Keep share some valuable insights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: some discussion of rape and physical pain, injury and punishment.

 

 

Steel had sent Brak off to bed late a few nights later. They had both been at the House and it wasn’t a place either enjoyed. Steel had friends there, but while there everyone had their masks firmly in place, everyone was **_pleasant_** to everyone else, no-one spoke their minds, everyone was hiding something.

           “Politics!” groaned Steel, washing the taste out of his mouth with the last of Brak’s ale. Then he was aware of a shadow and looked over. The dogs had noticed, too, and lifted their heads.

 

          Mozzie came into the room a little way. “Lord Steel?”

            “Sir Mozzie – is everything all right?”

          “I just saw the light on and then I heard you say the word ‘politics’ in an accent of loathing!” Mozzie smiled a little.

           “My burden in life!” Steel said, offering Mozzie some wine, which he accepted.

          “On every planet I’m sure it is the same,” Mozzie nodded. “It brings out the worst in people, all the greed and self-interest. Now and then there is a government that is not completely corrupt…I lived in a small, young country that was fighting an economic war and some terrorism, and that government worked. The…members of the government were all businessmen and farmers and the like. Four lawyers altogether in the mix of over a hundred and therefore nicely diluted. It was a grand experiment.”

           “Did not last?”

            “The sad thing is that corruption cannot bear anything pure. It holds up a mirror and evil men cannot stand what they see, so they lash out. No, it didn’t last. But it lasted about 300 times longer than it’s enemies predicted!”

           “Disheartening,” Steel noted. Mozzie wondered if he was a little drunk. The simile ‘drunk as a lord’ hadn’t applied here in their experience. A drunk with total power over others seemed a bad idea to Mozzie!

       Then the lord looked over. “Were you wanting something, Sir Mozzie?”

            “No, Lord Steel. Just saw you were here, came to thank you, I suppose, for being fair and reasonable.”

            “Damned difficult.”

           “What is?”

           “Always being so damned fair and reasonable!”

            Mozzie grinned. “Yes. I heard Neal’s story of how he – er – broke into your suite and you made him sleep on the floor.”

           “Hmm…not quite the way it happened. I **_ordered_** him to sleep on the floor, but he ended up sleeping quite comfortably on the cushions off the dogs’ couch, with them, on the floor!”

           “Ah,” Mozzie smiled. “Um – thank you for being so…you handle him well, Lord Steel.”

           “Think so?”

           “Yes. You are the first person to do so. You are fair and you have a sense of humour, which I think makes all the difference. You don’t yell at him, try and control him, punish him, try and make him feel scared or weak or a failure. I have never seen him so … I think he feels secure, for perhaps the first time in his life!”

           Steel sat up and focussed. “I have tried not to be a bully, and he comes by choice and sits at my feet! - something I have never demanded of anyone and from the life he lived on…Earth, I can not think why he even considered doing it.

          “Is it possible to really control Neal Caffrey, Sir Mozzie?”

            Mozzie made a face. “They thought they had, in the super-maximum-security prison where he was placed for four years. He broke out as soon as he really wanted to…it took about two of your fifty-days for him to be ready and he could have disappeared forever.

          “The Suit controlled him to some extent, but some of the time he stayed and was good because he was looking for his girl, then he stayed because he wanted revenge for the killing of his girl, and then he just sort of stayed – but he committed lots of crimes, so I doubt you could call it successful control from the FBI’s standpoint.

          “And as for sitting at your feet…he has a gift of knowing how to connect with people. Normally, he smiles deep into people’s eyes and touches them lightly. These are behaviours that he knows you would not find respectful. His instinct gave him another option. And it works, doesn’t it?”

           “So this behaviour is a – a con?”

            “Oh, no, Lord Steel! He wants to connect, to like and be liked. He loves you, in fact, because of the way you treat June if for no other reason.”

           “He likes and respects you.”

           “We’re friends and he knows I’m always on his side. So sometimes – when girlfriends aren’t involved, well, when emotions aren’t involved – he takes my advice.”

           “And if he does not, he goes off on his own and you get to pick up the pieces.”

           “Sometimes, my Lord. There isn’t any malice in Neal, you know?”

           “So I believe.”

 

            Steel got up and rearranged the logs in the fire and placed another one atop the springing flames. Then he went on, “You have all been rather time consuming.”

           “The Earthlings, Lord Steel?”

           “Yes. I normally buy one or sometimes a bonded pair of slaves. It is far easier to integrate them. A whole family - which this group seems to resemble – that is much harder. Add to that the strength and intelligence of each individual, and the – er - ”

 

          “ ‘Eccentricities’ is the word for which you search, Lord Steel,” Mozzie grinned, pouring more wine.

           “I did not want to be offensive.”

            “Offence, like the common cold, can be given but causes no symptoms if not received,” Mozzie said. “I would be concerned if you considered Neal or me normal, Lord Steel!”

            “I would be concerned if everyone was so like the pair of you that I came to consider your characteristics normal, Sir Mozzie!” They smiled at each other.

           “So it is easier to control lone new slaves?” Mozzie asked.

            “I should not collect people. It is difficult – but how can I not? If I had left the first three at the Slave Market, they would have been separated, it is likely that Neal and Peter would have been gelded, June would have died of a broken heart.

          “Peter, who still is not at all good at being a slave would have fought and probably eventually been punished so severely that he died, Neal – well, Neal might have escaped, eventually. Might even have survived. But how sad it all would have been. There would have been nowhere for Caleb and Elijah to have come, and you, unless you connected with Neal - ”

       

    “I don’t think the other Earthlings realised when you were talking to Peter, ordering him to go and have sex with ‘a beautiful slave woman’, that any other Master would have **_at least_** had him whipped for his impertinence, his disobedience.”

          Steel nodded. “It was difficult for me, I assure you, to remain calm and remember that I was teasing the man, when he was being so obdurate and rude to his Owner.

          “That is always my concern. A new slave enters my Keep, especially Fresh Meat. They are traumatised, terrified, often damaged physically and always emotionally. The last thing I want to do is impose rules and behaviours upon them. Yet I need to have them conform enough to fit in, to be liked, to be accepted and not to cause trouble. I told Peter this. It is why I try and buy only those slaves who are not too badly hurt and scared. And a group tends to become isolated from the rest, to reinforce their own societal norms and therefore resist adapting.”

           “Rather like adopting a child. Not usually a baby, though even those poor little mites can be badly scarred, people are that vicious and/or stupid. But if a child has not been taught any reasonable behaviour, if it has been frustrated to the point of rebellion, or scared of every word or touch…how does one discipline them, give them boundaries, without at least appearing cruel or mean, and simultaneously develop love in the home? It takes sensitivity, consistency, patience and lots of affection. They have to know they are with someone they can trust, who play by a set of rules they can understand, that doesn't change with the wind, and that they are loved. Their behaviour may not be acceptable, sometimes, but that they are always loved.”

           “Yet it has to be done. Given time, they will recognise that love and boundaries and discipline are all in their best interest. And at least I only have to aim for having my slaves respect me!”

           “You manage because you are fair, Lord Steel. Or you have always been fair and more than fair to us.

          “The reason I found your interactions with Peter that evening so interesting is that he has always been the one upholding The Law at any price, ramming ‘obedience’ and ‘being law-abiding’ down Neal’s throat when he was his handler. Not that Neal wasn’t aware of the law, intellectually, but he had no allegiance to it, so it was alien to his way of life, his thinking.

          “Then suddenly Peter is, in effect, in the same predicament – **_he_** has a handler and a set of laws that are alien to him and I found it – perhaps amusing is the wrong word! – to see that he couldn’t cope with being law-abiding at all!”

 

Steel was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I do not want you to think I am asking you to betray a confidence, to give away your plans…but though you say Neal feels secure here, Peter says he will eventually run. That it is his nature. Perhaps once he feels bored, or just to see what is on the other side of the wall, the river, the mountains.

          “I want to warn you that if he, or both of you, do such a thing, it would be very dangerous. The laws against such disobedience in slaves are extreme. The result is always death and always a dreadful death. I could do nothing for him, he would have put himself beyond my protection.

          “From what I understand, part of the delight is doing things that are illegal, seeing what you can achieve. However, if you can persuade Neal to accept it, I will very gladly give him his freedom rather than have him risk such an end. It would not be a game, not for him. He would be the prey in a blood sport that entertains the most sadistic section of our society.

          “Please try and dissuade him from such a gamble, if you can. I am trying to find a way home for you all, but it is possible he will choose to stay here, so the problem still might arise.”

  

          Mozzie nodded. “I will bear that in mind. I believe the violence of that possibility would impact Neal’s decision, and **_I_** never want to see him hurt again. I think he might accept his freedom from your ownership. Again, you are being very kind, my Lord.”

           “I try and be fair, Sir Mozzie. There are times I feel I am being so lenient that I am encouraging poor behaviour: I did not pull Peter up when he was acting rebelliously, and I doubt he respects me to this day.

          “And I can not think what some of my friends would have thought of Neal’s exploit of appearing in their rooms in the dark of night!”

 

          They both laughed. Mozzie said, “He won’t do it again. He truly didn’t expect to find your rooms at the end of that passageway.”

 

          “It is a blessing you found that for me. And I have threatened him in no uncertain terms that I will punish him if he does it again!

         ‘Oh, he looked just like a child caught out in some mischief! I had such an urge to turn him over the back of the couch and **_spank_** him that night! That was in part just a reaction to my shock – I could have killed him before realising who he was! I soon saw he meant no disrespect or evil.” The Lord ran his fingers through his hair, considering, then went on, “And I doubt threatening him will do much good. He will not do **_that_** again, but I am sure he will think of something else just as outrageous to do!”

 

          Mozzie nodded. “I think there are a few of us who know him well who have not thought of smacking him, even just to get his attention! He gets bored easily, and then he starts thinking creatively, and that’s when the trouble starts. ”

           “That is part of the reason he seems so youthful, I presume. Most so-called adults who behave well all the time are merely depressed, they have given up.”

           “Living ‘lives of quiet desperation’ one Earthling called it. And yes, so far, thank God, Neal has never done that for long.”

           “ ** _You_** are happy here? You are not bored?”

           “I have wine and books and some good friends. I am safe and secure and private, and you have demanded literally nothing of me, Lord Steel. As long as Neal is happy here, I am happy here. I can learn and help Neal, and I am working with Caleb and some of your farmers and on some of my own projects.”

           “And you are not a slave.”

           “I can’t see that you are that demanding from your slaves, either, Lord Steel. You **_could_** have demanded that I become your slave, or forced me to act as one…but if I had walked in here and found you chatting with Ophera or Tamlin or Elijah or Elizabeth I would not have been surprised. You treat us all as people with feelings and needs.”

           “Because you are.”

           “And what percentage of other owners of slaves on this planet would not have had Peter whipped for disobedience? There would have been no thought of spanking Neal - not that you did! - they would have had him whipped or executed summarily, would they not?”

           Steel sat back and then said, “I am very young for this position, Sir Mozzie, and it is a small Keep. Perhaps it is harder to control a larger group of people, I know not. It seems that most people with my level of power are very jealous of their position. If any slave appears not to hold them in the utmost respect and be wholly subservient, they must react, even over-react, to ensure that every other slave knows that it will not be tolerated.”

           “Another difficult wire to walk. I agree, I think Peter does not hold you in high esteem, perhaps because of your apparent youth.

          “How old are you, Lord, if that is not a discourteous question?”

 

          “Perhaps from a slave it would be! I cannot really explain, as I know not how long your days are, Sir Mozzie. I have lived thirty winters – the coming one will be my thirty-first. But - ”

           “You look about twenty of our winters! If you took your age compared to the age your species would normally die, what fraction have you lived?”

           Steel thought a moment. “About a tenth? We also lived much shorter lives before we got rid of the machines, the drugs, the dangerous chemicals, all the commercialism, before we cleaned up the planet.”

 

          “Hmm – another whole range of variables! And how many winters ago would you have been able to father a child – biologically, I mean.”

           Steel looked a little startled and said, “Oh, about twelve, thirteen? Biologically. I am only becoming of an age to be considered marriageable, and that only because I wear the knot.”

           Mozzie shook his head. “You are right, I have no meaningful way of knowing how old you are from this, my Lord!”

           Steel smiled gently at him. “There is no reason for you to call me that, Sir Mozzie. You are as free as I. You can call me Caerrovon, if you wish.”

           Mozzie smiled back. “Thank you, Lord Steel, but that would put a distance between me and the other Earthlings and that I choose not to do.”

           “As you wish.” He yawned. “I should get some sleep.”

           “One more question, Lord Steel?”

           Steel settled back and Mozzie asked, “Why does this Keep – and I’m assuming, others – have a small standing army, and many other trained warriors? Your library tells of bloody Keep wars in the past, but none more recent than three generations. Is this just for mutually assured destruction: if a Keep starts a fight they know there will be efficient retaliation?

          “And why do you, personally, remain at such a level of preparedness?”

 

          “There are no easy questions with you Earthlings?” Steel thought a moment. “Is this question yours, Sir Mozzie?”

           “Lord?”

           “I will tell you, because I respect you and from everything each and every one of the other Earthlings have said, you are an expert at keeping secrets. Even Peter respects you in this! I cannot have this bruited abroad, for my safety and that of my people. My slaves, my Keep slaves, know a little of this, most just a little. A small group of other highly trained warriors know more.” He was quiet for such a time that Mozzie thought he was regretting starting on the tale. Then he said, “One man to another: will you keep my secrets? Tell no-one?”

           “Of course, Lord Steel. My word on it.”

           Then Steel went on, with some difficulty, “You have seen just a small amount of the horrors of slavery as it has come to be practised. There are cruel Keepers, owners, but we try and use our influence as a whole to curtail their activities which are, as you will have seen in the laws, illegal.

          “It would have been quite **_legal_**   for me to have Peter whipped for continued disobedience, even executed – what use is a totally disobedient slave? - or have Neal executed on the premise that he put the Keeper’s life in jeopardy and attacked him in the night. Not morally right, you understand, but it would be impossible to question.

          “But to maintain slaves for sexual favours who had not chosen to be trained sex slaves, or to inflict physical or emotional punishment for no reason, behaviours such as these are frowned upon and there are channels that we, as other Keepers, especially the powerful, large Keeps like Betchem, can use and we do have some influence.”

 

          Steel drew a deep breath. “The Slavers and their Hounds, however…they used to just collect willing slaves. From drought stricken areas, for example, offer them the option of entering a large household as a slave till the drought broke. They would receive a payment for those they found.

          “It spiralled out of control. Because people were willing to pay, they were willing to take, steal people, just as they took your friends.

    “I went to the Market, the first time I was ever in charge of buying my own slave! I felt so mature, so excited! I bought Jarad – he was a year younger than I – and he begged me to buy two boys he had been watching in the Slave pens. They had managed to speak and told him their story. My father, by the by, was thoroughly annoyed with me for agreeing, but I could not resist when I was told what had happened.

          “Sir Mozzie, it was so disgusting, so degrading that I will not sully your ears with it. Their sister had been …had been raped so violently and so often, in front of their eyes, that she had succumbed to her injuries, to their relief. Their situation was not much better.

          “They were so badly injured! We tried our best to heal them.”

 

Steel paused and Mozzie was surprised to see tears in the young man’s eyes.

 

          “They were so physically hurt and worse, emotionally…we lost them both. My father felt justified in his anger.

          “Jarad and I took an oath together, and trained as hard as we could to excel in every technique of fighting. How we worked! My father was so proud of me and my shield-mate! But he had no idea…to his death, he had no idea!...we told Leran, and he kept the secret and kept us honest and let us not go before we were ready. But when we were, he went with us – Leran, Brak, a few of Leran’s most trusted warriors, Jarad and I went and assassinated that group of Slavers.”

 

          Mozzie startled, and Steel nodded at him. “I know. Neal would be horrified.

          “But we did not come away unscathed. Brak and Leran, with all their experience, and the soldiers, all suffered minor injuries, except for one. I was quite badly hurt, and Jarad was much worse. We took a short cut through the forest to try and reach help sooner and stopped there because Leran thought Jarad’s strength was failing.

          “I was – I was praying, June calls it. Just admitting I had no power, no ability and that we had to have help or my oath-mate would die. And help was sent…Lira came to us through the trees and healed us all! I have to tell you, and you may laugh if you choose – we were all terrified, all except Jarad who was unconscious! The Chiri had been legends to most of our people, myths, stories to frighten naughty children!       

          “And since then she has always come when I have called her.”

 

Mozzie and Steel stared at each other, thinking of that scene.

 

          Then Steel went on, “Jarad kept the oath. After that, if we had strong proof that a group of Slavers were wicked and evil, we would again do what seemed necessary in the dark of some moonless night. Jarad is not involved now, he is just recently become a married man with a lovely wife, and manages Sea Keep for me.

          “And I try and take legal action and try and influence the older and more powerful Keepers to take action to force the Slavers to keep the laws, but that progress is slow and wearisome.”

 

“But you are a Keeper, now, Lord Steel. Should you not be more careful of your safety?” Mozzie asked.

 

“When I see changes, perhaps.

          “Sir Mozzie, please carefully guard my secret. I feel that you are trustworthy, or I would not have told you. That and the fact that if you know the evil I fight, you will know how dangerous it would be for Neal to be a runaway.

      "But the more people who know, the more likely my life will be put in danger. And with my life, the lives of my sworn warriors and the health of Steel Keep.”

 

“Neal has already given his allegiance and therefore mine is superfluous. But you have my word, Lord, I will tell no-one without your leave to do so.”

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 19

Thanks to my faithful readers! I enjoy your take on the story and your participation at every stage.

 

 

 

 

 


	20. Never Bet Against the Gut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of a period of time when our heroes are feeling secure and settled, Peter is assailed by a feeling he's never had on this alien world.

 

 

 

          Life went on for all the inhabitants of Steel Keep without too much excitement for about a fifty-day.

They found specific things to do in the Keep and the farm that made them feel useful and fulfilled, and though sometimes the work was tedious, boring or tiring, they enjoyed the company of the other slaves and there was always free time to enjoy their friends and favourite pastimes.

Neal was working and trying hard not to do anything to displease Lord Steel, who had been so generous to him and for whom he was developing a deep fondness.

          The man had every right to punish him for his stupidity in waking him in his suite, startling him, causing him to reveal his hidden power. Neal knew that many Earthlings would have calmly disposed of him to ensure that far less amazing secrets were kept, on the premise of, ‘Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.’ Yet he was still breathing. Steel treated him with the same casual kindness as before.                                                                     

          Mozzie accepted him, no matter what – no matter how foolish and emotional he seemed to Mozzie. June accepted him, no matter what. It appeared that Steel was the same, and it had never happened with someone with power over him - Total power, total sovereignty, in this instance. It made him feel that he just might be able to trust Steel, and Neal basked in it like a flower in warm sunshine.

 

Meanwhile, Elizabeth, June and Diana, now letting her hair grow out a little (she could always put on a hat!) were teaching the other slaves to dance the waltz. They liked Neal to come and help sometimes, he was more confident than either Jones or Peter, but often Neal was too busy. Jones was becoming very good at teaching.

          Mozzie had developed a piece of machinery that resembled nothing as much as the inside of the cursed music box, much enlarged. He had studied the various pre-phonograph music machines when it had seemed that the amber music box housed a secret.

          After the party, when the only accompaniment had been the leelt, he had found a stack of large-diameter metal pipes, possibly from some water-purification system long replaced. They were made of brass of some sort. He then kept his eyes open and found many other scrounged articles (he had often noted in his travels that if people had the room and stored things for many years, there was no end of useful bric-á-brac that could be found! Castles were lovely!) and eventually made the equivalent of a music-box of olden times on Earth, a large piece of furniture rather than the tiny (and sometimes tinny) modern versions.

          Some pipes became the interchangeable cylinders that turned with the use of some huge springs and had tabs that, via gears, struck other cylinders cut to give a variety of notes. It was large and bulky, Mozzie had to admit, and only with extensive cosmetic cabinet-making would it ever be considered beautiful, but he thought Antoine Favre-Salomon might have been quite proud of the adaptation of his invention! Visibly it was unappealing, but the sound was lovely!

          He worked on making the drums to play waltzes, including the Tennessee waltz, so that Neal’s painting would always have relevance, as well as some of the songs they’d sung at the party. All the dancers hailed him as a hero! Neal was gently amused at how revered his friend was here, how well-known, and how he seemed to actually enjoy it! Again he wondered if either of them would have turned to crime if money and a pleasant lifestyle had always been available.

 

          One lunchtime, Steel and a group of his ’protection detail’ soldiers took the carriage and their horses and rode off. This was a common occurrence, Steel always took a small group of soldiers on horseback wherever he went. It was a show of his power, his position. This time he also took Tamlin, but that was also usual if he was going to conduct business or even sometimes to the House. It was good to have someone who could pick up corruption like the smell of rotten eggs. Diana was proud of the work her friend put in.

          But this time Neal came through on his way to finish some preparation work for school, and found Peter standing staring at the front door. Mozzie was tagging along, planning on working on his new pet project.

          Neal was about to ask his ‘whachadoin?’ question, when something made him stop and say, seriously, “What’s up, Peter?”

          “I don’t know. I wish Steel hadn’t left us alone at the Keep today.”

          “You think something is going to happen? Like an attack of some kind? Someone coming after – um – some lost slaves or something?”

          “Perhaps. Where are our acrobat team?”

          “Practising, I think.”

          “Let’s just get them somewhere safe, shall we? Something doesn’t feel right to me.”

          “Let’s not make any bets against the Gut. If you’re wrong, all they’ve missed is a practice.”

          They all joined Diana and Jones. Mozzie was always open to the powers of observation of trained professionals giving them information that could not possibly have been accessed by the normal five senses. He’d studied USA’s Remote Viewing and the U.S.S.R.’s definitive paranormal research programmes.

          “Hey, come to help?” Jones said. “Normally Joster and Pey have been helping, just to be safe, but they had to go with Steel today.”

          “Yes, about that,” Peter said.

          “Peter has a feeling that all is not well with Steel Keep,” Neal told them. Immediately Peter’s two agents became alert, gathering round him.

          “Just in case I am right, just in case, where is there any safe place? Steel’s suite is not available for you any more, is it?”

          “No,” Jones shook his head. “He thought we were safe!”

          “Probably you are,” Peter told him. “I just can’t…I just feel…”

          “It’s okay, Boss. Rather we are over-vigilant than dead,” Diana said, not looking in the least like a teenager all at once.

          “There are several safe places we can stow you both,” Mozzie said. “Places no-one will ever find you. All the plans are secured. The places are small, but they have fresh water and dried food, enough for a week.”

          “That’s good,” Peter nodded, as usual not concerned about how Mozzie and Neal did things that he could use, not wasting time asking. “Now, what if it isn’t about you two? What if it’s another type of attack? Can we get Steel back here in a hurry?”

          “I may be able to,” Diana said, blushing a little. “Tamlin has been showing me, helping me, share thought, emotions. She’s with his party. And of course, Shiral is here.”

          “Good to share things,” Neal commented, no expression at all.

          “It is, Neal,” she agreed, and they exchanged a quick grin. He felt himself lighten. She would never have let that go before without at least a token threat!

          “So we perhaps have a way to contact them if something goes wrong,” Peter nodded, again not questioning, collating options and possibilities. “Do we know where he’s gone?”

          “Tammy just said it was a business meeting, but I don’t know how far they have gone, Boss.”

          “So we might just be on our own. Okay, then, how many trained soldiers are there at Steel?”

          “Leran is at the stables checking the war-horses,” Jones offered.

          They turned and, as a group, hurried off to the stables. Leran looked at Peter, studied him while he explained. Leran was a soldier with a generation and a half of experience. He would never belittle a seasoned warrior’s instincts. He immediately became concerned.

          “We don’t want to cause a problem, but we need to be ready,” Peter told him. “Look, I’ve never had this feeling here. Back home, I had it often, we were in the field. I don’t even know how trustworthy it is, here.”

          Leran said, “Lord Steel felt that we were safer, after the Military came and found nothing. He had nothing planned that would need a great many soldiers, we had no word of any potential problems, and he sent a large number, other than his own personal guard and a few others, including some of the babies, to Sea Keep for training there. It is easier when the weather here turns cold.”

          “How do we secure the Keep?” Peter asked, feeling a little frustrated. If someone had the intel that Steel was going to get rid of a large proportion of the guards of the Keep, or had learned of it since, there was a real chance his gut was right!

          “We first need look-outs,” Leran said, nodding. “The babies that are still here can easily do that. Some of the girls are very small, even handling our swords is still heavy for them, but they are smart and intelligent. They know what to do.” He called a youth who was washing a horse’s tail and sent him running towards the barracks. “Then we need to get everyone some armour and weapons. Again, just in case.”

          Soon everyone there but Mozzie, who had no interest in physically fighting, had found armour that fitted well enough. It wasn’t suits of armour, and it only had metal here and there, a lot of the pieces were made of thick leather, hardened with some kind of lacquer. It reminded most of them of a Roman soldier’s armour.    It only attempted to protect the most vital areas while leaving the fighter free to swing sword, mace or daggers. All the ‘babies’ as Leran called them, what the Earthlings would have called mid-to-late teenagers, suited up excitedly, almost hoping that something would happen! There were also twenty-five well-seasoned warriors who got ready with great speed and waited calmly for orders.

          Sixteen of the youngsters were sent off to vantage points such as the bell tower, all in pairs.

          “What else can we do?” Peter asked.

          Leran thought a bit. “You have no further feelings, no details?” Peter shook his head. “And do you feel the threat is more imminent or more dangerous than you first thought?”

          Peter closed his eyes. “I just get a feeling, Leran, a ‘watch-out-there’s-something-bad-about-to-happen’ – and I felt it when Steel left, so probably the Lord and those he had with him would have been able to handle it if he was here. However, I don’t want to call him back for something so vague.”

          “You should practise,” Diana said. “You can develop it.”

          “So then it would not be many hundreds of armed soldiers,” Leran noted. “It might well be something those left here _can_ handle.”

          “I have seen how strongly the Keep itself is built. What about the farm and the workers who may be outside with animals at this time?” Neal asked Leran. “Should we try and bring them in to the Keep itself?”

          “It has been done in the past,” Leran nodded. “When an all-out attack was imminent, and we lost much of the outbuildings but the people and animals were all safe. But it is a little radical before we even know what the threat is! But I do think it would be well to send soldiers out to alert the farm-slaves to gather animals together and just be prepared. The soldiers could stay out there as guards till we know what’s what.”

          “Do you have a sensitive amongst these soldiers?” Diana asked. “So we can relay orders quickly?”

          “Yes, Tomn is sensitive enough to pick up Tamlin or Shiral. Go, Elijah, and alert Shiral and perhaps ask her if she can contact Lira. Not to bring her, she probably has other work, but just to let her know that something may be about to happen.”

          Diana jogged off. Jones was standing, a slight frown on his face.

          “What?” Neal asked him.

          “Just running the list…fortifications, weapons, water, food, communications with reinforcements if needed, weaknesses…it’s intel that we really lack. We just think that maybe something just might happen. One of the problems is keeping people on alert for any length of time with no proof of anything happening. Especially recruits, probies, whatever you want to call them!”

          Peter and Leran moved off, talking about gates and doors.

          “You look like an actor auditioning for Spartacus or Gladiator or something,” Neal grinned. “It suits you.”

          “Yeah, it does look like a screen-set cattle-call or whatever it’s called, except we’re all costumed already, everyone standing around looking tense!” Jones grinned.

          “I don’t particularly wish to try out my skills against an armed foe intent on killing me,” Neal shrugged. “I always said I don’t like guns. Don’t like sword-fights, either, now I find out.”

          “No-one likes …well, no LEO or soldier likes killing, Neal. But if someone comes at you, or one of Steel’s people, you’ll be very useful.”

          “Again, wish I’d spent more time in the armoury and less in the studio, just at present. But I’m reasonably fit, the muscle memory is there.”

          “And adrenaline is the best drug ever!”

          “You know, Caleb, I’m glad we were abducted. I’m sorry for all the people who were hurt or killed, of course, and all those living in bad situations here **_now_** , but just for me, I’m glad to be here.”

          “You seem to have found your feet, Neal. I’m pleased for you. You’re finding your strengths. I’ve never seen you this relaxed.”

          “Yeah. I’m not saying I don’t want to find a way home. But I would never have developed a relationship with you, or Elijah, as I have. It’s been amazing. I always liked you, you know? You were really good to me, didn’t treat me like a trained rat, but I didn’t know you very well.”

          “You are reacting to the possibility of death by thanking people in your life?”

          “Don’t be silly, Caleb. I faced death-and-destruction regularly throughout my life! I didn’t chase them, but my lifestyle could have left me dead, damaged or in prison, separated from everything I held dear - certainly monthly.”

          “So you just let people in your life know regularly that they’re important to you?”

          “No. Mozzie knows. June knows. But I haven’t told either of you how much fun this has all been.”

          “And Peter?”

          “Peter. Hmm. We’re okay.”

          “You used to be close. BFF’s.”

          “Yeah, that doesn’t work for him, Caleb. Conflict of Interest…why we’re called CI’s, in case you missed the memo.”

          “He should never have…”

          “I should never have let him catch me.”

          “Something I’ve always wanted to know.”

          “Uh-oh! That sounds ominous. You can ask.”

          Caleb glanced straight at him and heated a little. “What? No! I just wanted to know why you just sat there and waited for Peter. At Kate’s. You had time, coupla hours! - you had a ride that we hadn’t even tracked, you could have been in Alaska. I’m assuming Moz was out there with a getaway plan…why just sit?”

          “Blow to the heart can be fatal. I dunno. Stupidity. I couldn’t think where to look for her.”

          “We’re funny creatures, aren’t we?”

          “Wouldn’t do it again.”

          “Woman?”

          “Yeah. If they leave me, they leave me. Bye! I’ve lost too much…I wouldn’t have been caught at all, never had a record, never…well, it was all because I thought there was something special there.”

          “And there wasn’t.”

          “If there’d been something special, I wouldn’t have had to do backflips to win her. She’d have just loved me. No jail-time, no anklet-time. Just working with someone. Never had that with a woman.”

          “With a woman?”

          “Yeah, Moz and I have that. Oh, it’s not sexual, but he would do anything for me, and has, often, and I’d try and do the same for him.”

          “There was one guy in the service…and I feel a little like that about Peter, but of course, it isn’t as strong as what you and Mozzie have. Peter’s going to leave White Collar at some point, I might, it’s never forever.”

          “Moz and I, till we die,” Neal chuckled. “If he could actually talk to Suits, walk into the Bureau buildings when El was taken, climb on an alien slave ship for Mrs Suit…nothing will break the bond. When I look back, I’m ashamed at how I’ve taken him for granted and because I was trying to help Peter I have put him in danger and compromised his ideals.”

          “Oh.” Jones studied him with profiler eyes, seeing far more than Neal realised. Yeah, resentment and disappointment. Hard for a friendship to really bounce back from those.

          “ ’Nother question…off the record...’we-who-are-about-to-die’-thing…is it hype, or are there a lot of things you did that we have no inkling of?”

          Neal’s eyes sparkled, his grin flashed white. “You wouldn’t _believe!_ If we actually find we’re stuck here, one day, I may just tell you, and maybe your son.”

          “Not Peter.”

          “Don’t know if they have high-blood-pressure medicine here. I love El, you know.”

          Jones laughed. “We all do, but scary lady!”

          Diana joined them. “What’re you laughing at?” she demanded, and they stared at her. “Sorry, sorry, guys, I just…I think something’s wrong.”

          “Omigod, Peter’s tummy bug is catching!” Neal said, stepping away.

          “No, I think it’s…”

          Suddenly there was a commotion in the stables, and several horses, fully tacked, came in, frothy and upset. One of the young soldiers had let them in when they arrived at the driveway gate, and then the next gates had been opened by guards there.

          Diana paled. “I was right! That’s the horse…Frith…that Tamlin was riding. I can hear her calling me, I’m just not very clear yet.”

          “There is blood on this saddle!” someone called in alarm. “And this one!”

          Peter was striding through and heard. “ _They’re_ hurt or in need? It wasn’t the Keep, then?”

          Shiral raced through, her hair shaking loose. “The Lord! Lord Steel! They have been attacked!”

          “What can we do?” Peter asked Leran.

          Shiral grabbed his arm. “No, no, he says that leave the Keep we must not! We must not leave her undefended. They are making their way home. He says we are understaffed. All the soldiers must stay here. He asked me to send for those who went to Sea Keep, and I have, and thanks to the gods, Lira will be on her way shortly, by the time they get here, I should think, so will she.”

          “Where are they?” Peter asked Shiral. “Those of us who are not soldiers could go and make sure they get home.”

          “What happened and where are they, can you two tell us?” Neal looked from Diana to Shiral.

          “They are down by the docks somewhere. It was an ambush, the Lord said.”

          “How many hurt?” Jones asked.

          “Most of them sustained some injury,” Shiral said, her eyes wide, looking at things they couldn’t see. “And they killed not all of the foes. He _thinks_ not that the rest will take on the Keep, not enough of their men left, the attack was a surprise, and the enemy thought to win easily and quickly, but they underestimated Steel Keep!”

          Peter looked around. “Leran, you and the soldiers stay here and guard the Keep. Come on, the rest of us Earthlings can do something, even if it’s just a show of support.”

          “I probably should not let you go,” Leran said.

          “Steel didn’t tell _us_ not to go, Leran. We’ll ride, take extra horses for them, guard the rear while they get home.”

          “We’re not your standard, Leran, but we can hack at bad guys with the best of them!” Neal agreed.

          “I will have the horses readied.”

          “I want one, as well, very quiet, but also a smallish wagon with a horse in the shafts. A strong, quiet horse,” Mozzie said, to everyone’s surprise.

          “Done!” Leran told him. No-one bothered to ask questions. Mozzie always did his own thing and it often helped, and Steel’s attitude towards him was well-known.

          “Do we even know exactly where they are?” Neal asked.

          “No, I have lost contact, they are all hurt and exhausted, and struggling. And I cannot go,” Shiral said, almost in tears. “I have no good backup here.”

          “I’ll take the dogs,” Neal said. “They’ll take us right to Steel.”

          “Will they obey you?”

          “I think they’ll listen to me a little, but we really need them to just take off and take us to Steel.”

          “Meet here in fifteen minutes,” Peter ordered. “And say a few prayers!”

          “Um, Peter, no. Can all the Earthlings meet in Steel’s study in ten?”

          “Why?”

          “Trust me, Peter.”

          Peter nodded. When Neal had that expression, it was also better just to go along.

 

 

End of Chapter 20

Excitement to come!  Thanks for being here!

 

 

 


	21. Earth to the Rescue!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, should be Earthlings to the Rescue, the other reads better! 
> 
> Title kind of self-explanatory, though of course with our friends involved it could never be a simple rescue, could it?
> 
> Violence involved.

 

 

          Ten minutes later, all of the Earthlings except Mozzie were in Steel’s study. El was hanging on Peter’s arm, looking determined. June was sitting quietly. Neal had a huge dog on either side, a little restless, looking around for Steel or Brak, but being friendly enough with him, if a little impatient. He was softly saying soothing things to them in Sheel, the same things he’d heard Steel say.

          “Everyone ready? We should get going!” Peter was in full attack mode. “Everyone locked their collars on? Perfect!”

          “Just one thing. We probably won’t need it, from what we know, but in case we do…” Neal shrugged a little. “…but we’d like to keep it a secret to us Earthlings. Just a little trick up our sleeves. Can you all agree to that?”

          “Oh, for heaven’s sake, we’re slaves here! What could you two possibly have that we have to keep a secret?” Diana was very impatient.

          “We won’t insist, you’ve got Tamlin and she can probably read you anyway…”

          “We don’t do that sort of thing!” Diana snorted.

          “Diana, you know if anyone can manufacture a secret, it’s these two. Just let’s get on with this!” Peter ordered.

          “Okay, secret, have it your way!” Diana was half-way out of the room.

          “In case we need coms,” Neal said, a little subdued, “which I don’t think we will…”

          **_“Neal!”_** Peter demanded, but Neal had all their attention now.

          “The ear-bugs will talk to each other.” Neal said in a rush. “We tested it…you say pizza, explain it, half a minute later an ear-bug across the Keep translates pizza. So they talk to each other, update each other all the time. So we reasoned they could talk to each other, they could relay messages and they will. They have for us when we’ve tried it. Just ask them. Just say, ‘tell Peter there’s a bogie here under the tent’ or something, your ear-bug will tell Peter’s ear-bug and it will tell him. The people here use telepathy, but this works for us.”

          Peter gazed him. “Okay. That’s excellent. I hope we don’t need it, but thanks! Well done.”

          Neal looked up shyly and smiled. He still liked to hear praise from Peter.

          They hurried out, finished saddling up, and set off, each leading another mount. The young soldiers let them out and waved good-luck.

          Neal, near the back with Mozzie and his wagon, filled with oddly shaped parcels that looked like groceries and covered with a large, dirty cloth, had to chuckle. There was the White Collar Team dressed up like Roman soldiers, on plush, large horses with prowling gaits, riding off like the cavalry to the rescue.

          Peter actually made a handsome and believable Roman centurion!

          Peter stood up on his knees (the saddles didn’t have stirrups) and looked back for Neal. Neal looked down and said, in Sheel, “Destruction and Damnation – go find Steel! Find Master! Where is Brak? Find Steel! Go!”

          The two dogs heard their full names, looked with a little surprise at Neal, and set off at a full run. All the horses, urged by their riders, took off after them. Mozzie just hung on, head down, though Neal tried to keep an eye on him.

          “If you lose me, just give me directions through the ear-bug!” Mozzie hissed.

          (Will do!) Neal said through the ear-bug and let his cinnamon mare have her head. It was almost as much fun as jacking a sportscar! The only thing that struck everyone as strange was the fact that here, on cobbles and cement and stone, these horses were much quieter than the hoofed Earth animals! It was surprisingly easy to forget they were on an alien planet!

          The horses seemed to know to follow the dogs, possibly from hunting expeditions and at a fast, bounding lope they could really cover a great deal of ground. Mozzie and his carriage were very soon far behind. But it was less than ten minutes before they came upon Steel’s party.

          They had taken the carriage, and the badly injured men were riding in that and many were riding pillion, some were limping along on foot and all of them seemed to be bloody and hurt. The ones walking were looking back the way they’d come, weapons unsheathed, obvious fearing someone following them.

          They all turned, saw the new horses, and smiled as a man! They grabbed reins from the party and some immediately mounted the new steeds. Some, holding more seriously injured partners on the remaining horses, nodded thanks to the Earthlings, but indicated their problem. Peter, Jones and Neal swung out of their saddles, looped their reins through their forearms and gave leg-ups and support to help the injured men mount the fresh horses, noting that Pey must be in the carriage and Joster had taken several wounds to his torso and was in a lot of pain.

          Diana checked on Tamlin, but though she was cut in a dozen places, they were all superficial wounds.

          “I thought I told Shiral to tell Leran not to send anyone,” Steel scowled. He was mounted on someone else’s mare, too small for him by a hand or two, but he couldn’t sit up straight, he was protecting his left side. There was a lot of blood on his head, it was soaked into his hair and ran down his face. There were several wounds on his arms and sides, but the head-wound looked the most serious.

          “Nah. Told him not to send soldiers,” Neal smiled briefly at him. “No-one in their right minds would call us soldiers. Except J – no, actually, not one of us!”

          “Are there unfriendlies following you?” Peter demanded, leaning over towards Steel.

          “May be. They are there, then gone. How did you…?” Then he registered the dogs jumping around him happily. “Perfect. Now they are not even my dogs.”

          “Yes, thank goodness, they weren’t vicious with Neal, my Lord!” Diana said, trying to help.

          “Oh, thank goodness,” Steel muttered, as close to sarcastic as Peter had ever heard him.

______"Know just how you feel, Lord Steel!" Peter told him, glancing back at Neal, remembering Satchmo's defection.

          “Tell them to hunt out the enemy, and we’ll keep them back. Lira is probably waiting for you, you won’t be slowed down by looking over your shoulder,” Jones told him.

          “Thank you all, and I will talk to you all later!” Steel tried to look intimidating, but with the blood everywhere and half-bent over it wasn’t easy.

          Neal just grinned more broadly. “We could just leave you here to bleed, my Lord, if you would prefer.” Jones gasped In horror at Neal’s cheek!

          “We’ll hold your line,” Peter told Steel. “Just get home.”

          The original party started off, much more quickly, all riding, and leading the extra horses. The Earthlings looked at the dogs and Steel gave an order and the two black creatures sniffed the air and ran back the way their master had come. It struck Neal as odd that they were totally silent. Again, the Earth party went after them, not racing to the rescue this time, and riding more slowly to cool the horses and save them for the return trip.

          It was a long way. Neal gave directions to Mozzie, who assured him he was not far behind.

          Rather to their surprise, the dogs led them to a gigantic warehouse amongst other huge buildings, all a great many storeys tall.

           "Is it safe, do you think, Boss?" Diana asked, looking up at the structure.

           “What’s the famous Gut say?” Neal joked, looking back for Mozzie.

           Peter looked surprised. “I feel there’s some danger, but nothing like I felt when Steel was on his way here. Just a little cautious feeling. That’s different!”

The others looked at him.

           “It may be something here, Peter,” Neal said. “Many of these people are more…sensitive than back home. Telepathy, or empathy or something. I first noticed it when I could understand Steel better than Brak…I thought it was his accent? But that’s not true. His Standard is actually worse than Braks! But he’s got this empathy thing…I think that’s what it is. Perhaps your instincts are stronger, here.”

           “You think it’s trustworthy, my feeling?” Peter asked. “I’ve always used it, but this more dangerous than betting on you, back home, doing something I wouldn't like with Mozzie or something!”

             “Give it up, Peter!” Neal grinned. "But yes, something in the water, or the clean air or whatever...or maybe just because everyone here is more open to telepathy and healing and stuff. I told you, lots of odd things happen in Ireland, and for heaven's sake, they build roads around trees supposed to be inhabited by fairies!"

           “Peter,” Jones pointed out, “if there were many strong fighters inside, they would have followed Steel and killed his party. So logic says they are unprepared for another attack so soon, and are weakened.”

           “And we have the dogs and can always retreat,” Neal nodded. “They aren’t going to sucker-punch us, we know they’re hostile.”

 Peter started giving orders and, with the help from the dogs, his party prepared to split up and start searching.

 _It isn’t in Peter to just hold a line,_ Neal thought, _he’s got to erase the line and draw his own!_

          When they were inside, as their eyes grew accustomed to the lower levels of light, they all cringed for a couple of seconds. Hulking ominously down all the one side of the huge building, on a sort of cradle, was a spaceship, just like the one in which they’d been captured and transported. They all felt a frisson of horror at the sight of the thing. Their memories were so unbelievably dreadful! For just a few seconds, they re-lived that terrible sense of helplessness and terror, a nightmare that didn't ever completely fade.

          The next thing they saw were bodies. At least fifty, flung out as though from the epicentre of an explosion. Most were thoroughly dead. Almost as though they’d been seared by a very hot flame, though many also had sword and dagger-cuts.

          “What the hell did that?” Jones asked.

          “Dunno. Fuel? Don’t know what those things use? Matter-anti-matter?” Peter suggested.

          “You’re basing this on what, Boss, Star Trek?”

          “Good a source as any, when you consider what else has come about that it prophesied…!”

          “ ** _Doesn’t_** _matter_ ,” Neal said. He guessed, but wouldn’t say. “Let’s get on with this!”

          At that moment a man appeared. He was a typical Slave-Hound, large, heavy muscles somewhat gone to flab, dirty, unkempt, raggedly dressed - and he was being chased by an angry dog of a different sort! He almost ran straight into Peter, who had no reservations about cutting him down. He knew that no court would convict a Slave Hound protecting his Slave ship, not if the big-wigs wanted more slaves from further afield.

          Men similar to this one had treated them all cruelly, taken them from their planet for profit and greed when Earth needed them. And they’d ambushed his Lord and his friends!

          Jones, Diana, Neal and Peter went off after the dogs. Usually one or two Slave-Hounds attacked at once, once it was five…but rather to their surprise, many of these Slave-Hounds were comparatively easy to defeat. Less than half of them were skilled enough for the White Collar team to really have to fight, and the Earthlings had the added advantage of knowing how to work together and trust each other, which seemed foreign to the Hounds. And they had a very real fear of Des and Dam, who for the first time showed how powerful, dangerous and ferocious they could be…and they weren’t that much smaller than Earth lions, after all! Several Hounds were so busy running from the dogs that they ran onto a sword held pointing at them!

 It was almost like hunting pheasant, with the dogs flushing them from cover one or two at a time!

          The large dogs split up and went in opposite directons, still silent, noses down, searching for the enemy. 

 

          Then things became a great deal more dangerous. A group of well-trained warriors, still dressed much like the other Slave-Hounds but much neater and in better physical condition, jumped them. The Earthlings retreated quickly to a more level floor, Diana bleeding badly from a chance sword-cut to her arm. Neal did a rapid count…ten - eleven! They didn’t rush, they didn’t sneer, they just took stock of the intruders and held their stance. Then, softly, swiftly, they came as a single unit at the team.

          For well over five long, exhausting moments, there were swords tanging and hissing off each other, boots scuffing, breath panting. In the enclosed space of the large landing they were all on, one was at times as likely to get injured by a friend as a foe! But the enemy were even more restricted, being a larger group.

          Jones’ sword went flying and Neal and Diana moved to cover him. Blood and sweat flew, and things would have gone very badly for Peter’s rapidly-tiring team had not Des and Dam suddenly appeared behind the Hounds and, with lightening-fast teeth, ham-strung four before the Hounds even knew they were there. The air was filled with the terrible screams of the incapacitated men, and now the Hounds remaining standing were trying to divide their attention between human enemies and canines.

          Peter swiftly stooped, picked up a sword dropped from a slain alien and tossed it to Jones.

          Within minutes Peter’s team had the upper hand and the Hounds were down and speedily dispatched by the team’s swords. Neal didn’t take anyone’s life in cold blood. Not that he didn’t agree with it, but something in him rebelled. They may be evil, they may be the opposition, but who knows how they would have been with different chances in life. He would have done it if there was no-one else there. He was just glad he didn’t have to.

_I’m probably a coward, but I just would rather not watch their eyes…oh, God, we shouldn’t have to kill…!_

          They looked at their fallen foes, wiping away sweat and blood, drying their sword- and dagger-hilts, getting their laboured breathing under control, petting and praising the dogs without thought for their aggressive natures. Peter looked around. “Mop up, I think.”

          “Wonder why they fight…even the bad fighters. They don’t run away, they don’t surrender,” Dana remarked, still catching her breath, while Jones wrapped her injured arm with his bandana. Neal ran down some steps, cautious of the blood, and collected Jones’ sword.

          “Scared of their boss? Dunno.”

          “Brainwashed?”

 

           Jones, Diana and Peter split up and started up ladder and stairs. Neal could hear them, keeping in touch through their ear-bugs. He stayed still for a moment, looked around the structure. Then he made his way down, back to the ground floor, and beneath. Dam came with him, panting happily.

          Every now and then one of the team would find a Hound, but these were mostly the less-trained soldiers, and no-one had much trouble. Still, not one surrendered. Then Peter and Diana found quite a large group of wounded Hounds, all injured, huddled together, along with their Captain’s body which was burnt to a crisp. Neal asked his ear-bug not to transmit the next few minutes.

          After a short while, he found what he was looking for. A strong, locked door. Within the room was an office, it even looked similar… _parallel evolution,_ he grinned. It was dark, but he soon found the internal lights and could search the place.

          Meanwhile, Peter, Diana and Jones split up and took separate stairways and paths round the complicated warehouse, keeping each other in sight. Peter and Jones took on single warriors and, though sustaining a few more cuts from surprise attacks, were managing quite well.

          Jones had a long gash from the group fight that had damaged both armour and clothing, so he discarded his armour and pulled off his top, which made him look excessively menacing, especially to people who had never fought a ‘black’ human before! The only time some of them had seen such people were on slaveships, shackled, cowed and confused. Jones, his muscular body slick and shiny with blood and sweat, his face a mask of determination, eyes cold, looked nothing like those Earthlings, and several of the Hounds just turned and ran, often straight into the other team-members!

          Diana was finding it harder to wield her sword with her arm wounded and thickly bandaged as it was. She soon sheathed the metal and took the next few Slavehounds, whom she thankfully flushed one at a time, unarmed, mostly using her deadly repertoire of kicks. Her combat skills were excellent ( _more of me having to prove myself as a useful woman in the Bureau!_ ) and she had little trouble, though she knew she needed medical attention and soon. Having crushed various bones and cartilage, giving the coup de grâce was swift and easy with her dagger.

The Hounds seemed to be aware that Peter was the leader of the team. They often came at him two or three at a time, but he hadn’t spent hours a day at the armoury for nothing, and though he could feel his body complaining about the extended hard work, he was never in any danger.

 

 

          At this time, Neal had found that for which he was searching. Against one long wall stood a safe, huge and strong. Then there were four other safes, beyond that, bigger than the first. _Wow, this slave-thing must be doing well!_

          Thankfully, all the locks were mechanical, not biometric or whatever Steel’s door-locks would be called. They weren’t like any Earth locks, but Neal could easily figure them out from all the locks he’d worked on in his useful criminal past!

          The first safe held nothing but money and obvious equivalents: gold, silver, some gemstones of high worth…some rubies the deep, rich, brilliant darkness and clarity of which had never been found on Earth. There were emeralds with no inclusions or flaws. The only ones like those on Earth were synthetic!

 

          Neal found some large heavy-duty canvas-type bags and started filling them, not putting too much in any one single bag. Gold is very heavy! Even paper money gets heavy when there’s enough of it! He’d always sneered at those books, movies and television programmes where a thief picked up a shoe-box sized stack of gold in one hand and ran off with it… _yeah, sure._

As he worked, he idly considered that, assuming the gold had been poured into the exact dimensions of a show box, and was pure gold, it’d weigh about – _hmmm – well, depending on the particular shoe-box, because they do vary, but about 488…, so nearly 500 lbs. Of course, that was unlikely, the pouring. But small ingots would have the least wastage of space…so perhaps in the region of 400lbs?_

_Still not something to run off with! And worth about…gold varies so much on Earth, who knows what it is fetching now? – but assuming no war, let’s say between 7 and 9 million, US. Not a bad haul, value-wise._

_And last time I checked,_ he thought _, a fantastically expensive pair of one- of-a-kind- **shoes** – __Weitzman had made some vintage-Hollywood-style shoes that ran about 3 million, and didn’t Winston make some ruby slippers worth about that? Not as easy to fence, that’s for sure, but a lot easier to put in the shoebox, hold under one’s arm and run with! Get a backpack, could put three such pairs inside…wish people who make TV and movies would just check the facts, ask any half-way decent thief - !_

          When he had emptied the first safe, he opened the second. He gazed in some surprise and then realised. He felt a little sick. In this safe were watches, cameras, rings, bracelets, many of them looked of Earth origin…there was a Nikon camera, and a Rolex watch! These were the human spoils of slave-hunting: the personal effects of the victims. They’d been on the arm or finger of some real human, warm from their body-heat and ripped off by an alien bastard without a thought – probably didn’t know what some of them were! He remembered Peter’s wedding ring, much more than mere 14 carat gold to Peter! He hoped he wouldn’t find any gold teeth!

 

          Just when he was most distracted, an enormous Hound burst into the room, having to stoop deeply just to enter the doorway. Neal spun, took stock and didn’t like what he saw, shifted, drew his sword and dagger with a metallic slither, and fell back rapidly as the Hound rushed him.

He yelled, ( _ **Big** problem, guys! Anyone close? Help!)_ through the ear-bug. He was trapped in the office.

          The man was _very_ much bigger and heavier than Neal – he’d never seen any human close to this size! - and swift with a fury and hatred that Neal couldn’t counter in this situation.

          They engaged, and immediately Neal’s shorter reach became a severe problem. The bigger man swung a single sword, more like a broadsword than anything Neal had seen on the planet, and to this giant it was like a shortsword; he was skilled and fast. As often happens, Neal’s consciousness seemed to split: one part worked with his body instinctively, the other, calm and serene, noted that this was likely to be his last fight and, if so, he couldn’t regret learning and painting and not doing more weapons’ training. No amount of training could have given him a chance against this behemoth! _And if ever had him as a friend, **he** could carry my golden shoe-box!_

          The heavy sword slammed into Neal’s weapon as he parried desperately, still backing, and the impact sent a bone-numbing jolt through the metal and into his forearm. He was unable to strike back. He gasped, and tried to avert the next blow, while screaming _(Help! Help! Help!)_ through his ear-bug. 

          He retreated further, fully on the defensive, only getting both arms up, one supporting the other, in time to just manage to deflect a hissing downward swing that was supposed to cleave his skull in two - but the blade continued curving down and sliced deeply into his outer thigh, right through the armour, making him stagger. The man’s ugly, pock-marked face split into a hideous, triumphant grin, but Neal stumbled back and before the man could advance, he flipped his dagger to hold it by the blade and shot it straight at the man’s chest.

          It sliced through the stitching between the huge studded leather plates covering the massive torso and buried itself.…The Hound looked with astonishment at the hilt, his hands went to it and he fell to his knees like a tree, the lethal sword clattering to the ground.

          Then Dam appeared from where she’d been nosing around in the larger part of the hanger, and tore out the man’s throat.

          Neal sent _(Problem solved)_ to the rest of the team, wasted a vital half-minute bent double trying to catch his breath, took off his belt and did it up very tightly around his thigh, holding the wound closed as best he could.

          Neal turned away, intent on collecting the spoil of these loathsome thugs. He was shovelling personal items into more of the useful bags when Mozzie arrived, out of breath.

          “Mozzie…good! Can you help me?...I can’t stay around too much longer, Moz.”

          “So I see.” Blood was seeping at a disquieting rate from the belt.

          “But we have to get this stuff! Please, help?”

          Mozzie went out of the room, remembering something he’d seen while scouting the warehouse and was soon back, dragging two extremely heavy-duty cart-things, like those used for baggage a airports on Earth, only these were made out of cast iron and heavily built. They started to load the bags, and then Neal went back to emptying the safes. Many of the things were unrecognisable to him, but hopefully Steel would identify them and the species from which they were taken. Mozzie kept packing, Neal went to the desk and found papers, all written in a language he didn’t know. Again, he collected them in bags and added them to the growing pile.

          “Come, let’s start making for the wagon. Safes’re empty now,” Mozzie told him, and they each took a cart handle and dragged it out of the room, across the cement floor, up a ramp and out of the door. Des was sitting in the wagon, guarding it. Dam romped across to him, and only the blood and gore in their fur forced Neal to believe their vicious natures as they bounced and played like puppies.

          “What are you doing?” Peter demanded, appearing as they offloaded the third pair of carts.

          “Loot!” Neal said. He was ignoring the fact that pulling and heaving was doing bad things to his leg, but he couldn’t hide the limp. He was acutely aware of the pain now, though, as the adrenaline washed from his blood.

 _Mostly into my boot!_ he thought, aware of the slippery, horrid mess in which he was squelching.

          “You have **_got_** to be joking! We’re getting rid of the evil bastards, at personal risk to ourselves, and you are getting rich on your second planet through ill-gotten gains?” Peter confronted them.

          “Peter!” Neal said. “Which would be more important to start up the enterprise again…one more Slave Hound or less, or a pile of wealth like that stupid Nazi treasure and just as tainted?”  _I don’t have time for this!_

          Peter looked a little abashed. “Sorry. You’re right! Where is the rest of it?”

          Mozzie gave him a dirty look and showed the three. They were all exhausted, all were losing blood, but they dragged the carts and emptied them. While they were doing it, four more Slave Hounds attacked them, but they hardly paused in their work to kill them.

          Peter suddenly realised that Neal was staying with the wagon, and when he looked at him he realised how grey Neal was.

          “Neal! Come on, we’ve got to get you back!”

          “No, no, I know my body. I’m okay for a little while longer. Get the stuff. There's nothing you can do...I need stitches, and blood, or Vulcan green stuff or something. Or just Lira. Just get the stuff. We can't leave it.”

          “Why didn’t you tell us you were that hurt! That’s serious! You said the problem was solved! You shouldn't have left the group!”

          “Yeah, I was attacked by Conan the Barbarian, broadsword and all! Not strong enough…couldn’t completely block his blow, but he’s dead. Frank Frazetta would have loved him!”

          “The one in the office?” Jones said, impressed. “Wow! He is **_huge!”_**

          “Yes, he is! And just the stench of him made my eyes water! We dragged him out of the way! Messy…dog got him?” Diana asked.

          “Yes, in the end.”

          “So this is your dagger.”

          “Mmm. Thank you! I was just so focussed on getting those things…cameras and watches and bracelets! Rings! My **_God!_** _”_

          With all of rest of them working together, they had soon cleared the place of men and wealth.

          Peter tried to get Neal to lie down in the wagon, but he wouldn’t. “I’ll ride as long as I can. If any are left and they see an empty saddle, they’ll know you’re slowed down. We can make good time, the horses are not injured and we can all ride. Let’s go.”

          “Jones?” Peter questioned, seeing him looking backwards to the hanger.

          “It’s just that damned Slaveship, Peter! Yes, the money and men would help, but it’s that thing that will transport more kidnap victims here.”

          “Get the wagon further away, Caleb,” Neal told him. “Let’s go.”

          “What are you doing, Mozzie! Get over here!” yelled Peter.

          “Just closing the doors!” Mozzie called, running back and jumping on the wagon.

          “Yeah, we did what we could,” Jones nodded to Peter. “Just frustrating!”

          They were turning the corner when Mozzie said, “About now, I think!” and following his eyes, they all looked back at the warehouse to see a bloom of lilac fire at one corner, then another, and then multiple explosions around the bottom of the main walls – followed by a loud whoosh and a blast of yellow flame, heat, smoke and debris that blew the doors and some of the siding and roof off, startled Peter, Jones and Diana, and set the horses dancing and trying to bolt.

          “Good?” Mozzie asked.

          “Absolutely splendid!” Jones said, leaning across and hugging the shorter man. As they rode, they heard the warehouse creak, explosions still going off, and then another much bigger one…the gas generation unit for the warehouse space, in all probability. Once they were round the next corner and a good way away, another resounding crash that made the ground shake made them grin.

          “I think that’s one less Slaveship going to be scouring the Universe for victims!” Diana said. “When we get back, I’m going to kiss you, Mozzie!”

          Mozzie looked alarmed.

 

          They were met by a group of mounted soldiers about a block from the Keep gates.

          “Steel is extremely worried about you,” their leader said, sternly. “You had no business getting involved!”

          “Oh, blow it out your rear, we’re not in your command!” Peter told him, laughing. The White Collar team were all feeling that euphoria, but Mozzie was increasingly worried about Neal who, at this point, slumped in his saddle and nearly fell.

          Mozzie yelled for help and the soldiers put Neal over a saddle and hurried him into the Keep. The others made good time and once inside the Stable yard, their horses were taken from them and everyone wanted to know what was in the wagon.

          “No-one touch that, or I will seriously do them some harm,” Peter said. “Only the Lord is to have access to it, all right?” While he was talking, he strode over and took Neal from the soldiers, leaving Diana and Jones to guard the wagon. They stood there, tired and bleeding, prepared to stand as long as necessary.

          The soldiers looked to Leran, who said, “Spoils of war. Belong to Steel of Steel Keep. Leave them be.   

                 “I will post guards, Elijah and Caleb. Go to the front room, are you able to walk? You are completely covered in blood!”

“Some ours, Leran,” Jones told him. “Mostly the other guys’.”

          Peter managed a halting run all the way into the Greatroom, Neal lying completely unconscious in his arms, his head bumping limply against Peter’s chest in rhythm with his ragged footsteps. The two black wolf-dogs hurried alongside. Steel saw them coming and immediately came up and gently took Neal from Peter’s grasp…Peter was so tired and determined that he could hardly release his burden to the larger man! Steel gently placed Neal down on a couch, saying to the dogs, "Well done! Sit now! Sit!" and Lira joined them at once. A soldier who had already been healed came up and put Peter’s arm round him, letting Peter, who was hardly aware of his support, lean his weight on him.

          By the time Diana and Elijah walked into the Greatroom, limping a little, their bodies were starting to stiffen up and **_really_ _hurt_** _._ It looked like something out of a war movie where the wounded soldiers have been billeted in a private residence commandeered for the purpose. There seemed to be wounded bodies and bloody cloths and nurses everywhere! Then they took stock and realised that most of the soldiers were just resting, now, though they were still being cleaned up and were still wearing torn, cut-away and bloody clothing.

          Lord Steel was leaning over Neal, and Lira was holding her hands over the wound while he held it closed. The belt was gone and the leg of Neal’s trousers had been cut away. A green-fluid IV was feeding into his arm. June was standing nearby, holding her hands together as if praying and trying to be brave. Peter suddenly realised how very, very much she loved this adopted son of hers! Elizabeth was helping another soldier, but her attention was obviously on Neal.

          Peter was distracted by Tamlin and Diana…she wasn’t behaving like an untried youth and he thought of her as Diana, his Diana, at the moment …hugging happily, and Tamlin demanding to see Diana’s wounds, the one through her bicep being the most serious, bad back home and here if she had to stay without Lira’s amazing care for very long. But he then looked back at Neal. By now Mozzie was standing, watching, face emotionless, not wanting to get in anyone’s way unless they proved themselves incompetent.

          “Must be hard,” Peter said to him. “You’ve usually stitched him up before now, haven’t you?”

          “Yes, Suit, and I have no doubt that unless we stay here, I’ll be doing it again.”

          “You have no faith he’s changed?” Peter’s eyebrows rose.

          “No more than you, Suit. Not that I have any desire for him to do so, remember. He’s extremely good at what he does.

          “But besides that, I’d hate him to be reliant on the Big Pharma system even if he became a Supreme Court Judge!”

          Peter went closer and looked down at Neal, whose colour was dreadful. He wasn’t moving, and Peter could see his pulse in his neck was beating too fast. But at least there was a pulse.

          “Lira, how is he?” Peter asked.

          Steel looked up and said, bluntly, “Fortunate he got here when he did.”

          “He said he would manage.”

          “Yes. I can see that he would always say that. How are the rest of you?”

          “All a bit banged up…except Mozzie!” Peter shook his head. “Nothing as serious as Neal’s. Diana took a nasty cut, needs attention soon, Jones? – it’s just your chest, not deep, just really long. Otherwise just lots of nicks, scratches and cuts. Hurt like the blazes when the excitement wears off, most would need stitches on Earth.”

          Jones answered him, “Yes, nasty, too damn close. Lucilla will not be pleased. Our clothing is a write-off.”

          “All of you must lie down, be washed, drink, let Lira work.”

          “Everyone else all right?” Peter asked.

          “Yes. Now.” Steel was short. He went on, his voice gruff, “Nearly lost Brak.”

          “But he’s all right?” Jones asked.

          “He will be. It will take a few days. I – I thought he was dead.” Steel swallowed.

          “It may be small consolation, but you won’t have to worry about that lot of Slavers again,” Peter reported.

          “Please, all of you, lie down, let the ladies do their work,” Steel said, dismissively.

          Peter lay down and Elizabeth came to help him. “Keep an eye on Neal, Hon,” he said, when they’d kissed and he’d reassured her that his wounds were relatively minor and would soon disappear.

          “Just about everyone but Tamlin and I are keeping an eye on Neal,” El chuckled, relieved now that her husband and friends were home. “There isn’t the commotion that hovered over Brak, so I think he’ll be fine soon.”

          “Yeah, skinny little guy but hard to kill!” Peter nodded. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Damn, he’s stubborn. Wouldn’t just come home, we _had_ to loot the Slaver’s stronghold. Would not give up, and then rode all the way back. I should have taken charge and insisted.”

          “Stubborn…hmmm…..where have I heard that before?” El asked demurely. “I’m glad he’s finding another life here. I was getting exhausted trying to clean my pet black pot and kettle.”

          Peter glanced at her, his eyes sad, but settled back and listened to Lira’s sweet song, El sitting on a stool at his side, her head on his chest. Much better than a hospital! He cuddled his wife.

          After Lira had finished, Ophera, June, Shiral and many other slaves brought round warm stew in bowls and cider and water and fruit juice. Neal seemed a little groggy, but very grateful. Peter staggered over and said, “You okay, Neal? Better?”

          “Yes, Peter, fine, really.”

          Mozzie was suddenly there with Neal’s food. “You did good, kid!” he told Neal. “No noise, no matter what! Made it home with the haul! You did very good!”

Neal grinned weakly at him, and Peter, feeling a little redundant, went back to his couch. He had felt as though everything in his world was right for a time there, and now it wasn’t. Diana and Tamlin were entwined on another couch, Jones was joking with a pretty young kitchen slave, Mozzie was helping Neal, who seemed exhausted, but content. Steel walked past and ruffled Neal’s dark curls and Neal and Mozzie both smiled up at him.

To Steel's amusement and puzzlement, the dogs both stopped and nosed at Neal, as if checking that he was now healthy.

          The soldiers that had been with Steel, and the Lord himself, had been treated by Lira twice, now. Steel came to each of the Earthlings to check up on them. He said to Peter, “We will all sleep right here, I think. Then tomorrow we can exchange information. I am not at all sure I agree with your methods, Peter.”

          “I get results. I’m not in the least concerned. I did what was right.”

          “So Neal is not the only Earthling who responds very poorly to orders and rules.” He turned and left.

          Peter frowned. “I know what I’m doing,” he said to El. “Not at all like ….”

          “Oh, Peter, Hon, of course you do. And so does Neal. But you’re just always playing different games with different rules! Just leave it, Hon. Lord Steel was beside himself about Brak and very badly hurt himself, injured, stressed, just burnt out. Don’t take it to heart.”

 

          They slept long and comfortably, not aware that Lira and many women who had nursing experience wandered around the room, making sure that all was well.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 21

Oh, dear, I'm going to miss this sharing when the story's done! Thanks to all the readers who bother to comment, it really is fun!


	22. Reports and Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Earthlings report to Steel and find there is an unexpected consequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for those people reading along regularly...but it's amazing I got this posted, short as it is...I've been sobbing along watching The Normal Heart twice...wow. Fantastic performances across the board, for my money. Also proves what we all knew, he can strip away clothes, or he can strip away 40 lbs and still capture our hearts. Matt is stunningly beautiful right to the end. The little scene with Ned's brother at his legal firm....all breathtaking. I can see why Matt got just a little snippy with reporters wanting to make it all about his sex scenes with Ruffalo (also great in this). 
> 
> And the writing makes me hesitate to put finger-tips to keyboard ever again...but I have to get this whole story up, at least. And it's basically written!
> 
> Sorry, review over. But the great thing is, we'll get to see a LOT more of Matt - he should be showered with awards and offers!

 

 

 

          The next morning they all felt healthy, rested and happy. The actual wounds were gone, though around the sites was still some inflammation and bruising. They could feel that their bodies still demanded care and more deep rest. El, who hadn’t seen Lira work before, kept checking on all Peter’s cuts and went round looking at Diana’s and Jones’ as well, her eyes huge. Breakfast was brought to their couches, and the soldiers left, each checking in with Brak and Steel before heading off.

          “Earthlings, eat a good breakfast, go, bathe, dress in new clothing! I want you back here in an hour. There is a great deal I need to know!” Steel ordered.

 

          They all regrouped later, clean and dressed, smiling and happy. Diana hugged Peter with one hand and said, “You were splendid, Boss!”

          Jones nodded. “So much fun! I didn’t realise how much I missed clobbering bad guys!”

          Peter responded with a huge smile of his own.

          “And I’m so glad I joined the White Collar Division,” Neal added, “where all the crime is on paper and all the agents are fat, old, chained to a desk and boring!”

          Lira came over and held her hands over his leg as he sat on an upright chair and he smiled his bright, loving smile at her and she smiled back, nodding. Again they touched finger-tips. Mozzie bowed to her and said, “Thank you for healing my friend.”

         

 Then Steel strode in, also clean and showing no signs of tiredness or injury. He sat on an upright chair and gestured everyone else to couches. Peter made a face. Steel was showing them all…especially him…who was in charge here, sitting on a higher chair and with his added height…!

          “I now have been told a few more aspects of yesterday’s events,” Steel said. “While I am proud of you all for stepping in where you saw a chance to help, it was foolish and irresponsible and we are fortunate that no-one was lost.”

          “What happened to you, Lord Steel?” Neal asked. “All we had was Peter’s gut feeling and then bolting horses and hearing that you were attacked.”

          Steel looked over and his mouth thinned. “We went to negotiate with the Slavers who kidnapped you. We had set a meeting time. We wanted to see if they would erase their records and also help us return you, if it was safe on Earth.

          “A meeting it was not. It was a trap.                                       

“Very soon, Tamlin warned me and I tried to withdraw. They came up behind us, had us surrounded. They never had any intention of getting you home, they were wanting to take you somewhere else and re-sell you, now as trained and docile slaves!”

          He thought a moment and added, **“ _Hah!_ ”**  then continued, “They were planning on going back to Earth but only to collect more slaves while the fighting continued. When we accused them of that, they laughed and said that slaves were the only use found for Earthlings that were standing in the way of a great haul of mineral wealth.                                            

“Tamlin picked up that they had made a deal with the aliens who were attacking your planet. Humans for these Slavers, the mineral wealth for their partners.   

                    “They were now going to concentrate on the biggest and strongest male Earthlings, who have proven to be good gladiators and fighters where the owners can use the aggression of the fighters to good effect, as many others are resistant to training and domestication.                                   

         “I could have told them that!                                                                                                   “But these Slavers are concerned because nothing their partners have done has made the Earthlings give up, though many have been captured and far more have been killed. Mines and factories have been destroyed and obliterated rather than let the enemy have them.”

          The Earthlings smiled at each other, proud.

          “Perhaps this will bring the people’s of Earth together, for a change!” Diana said.

          “At what cost, Sweetie?” Neal said, sadly.

          “Because they have had little success with most Earthling slaves they were going to ignore most of them, just capture the strongest males, as I said. Any other humans would be destroyed.”

          There was a gasp.

          “'Exterminated' was the word they used, I believe,” Steel said, his voice hard. “They were taunting me, as they knew me to be ‘soft’ towards slaves.”

          “So then they attacked you?” Peter asked.

          “They knew who I am, that I fight against the bringing in of unwilling slaves. They were planning to kill all of us and then come to the Keep, but they knew not that Tamlin was reading them and telling me, and they knew not all our fighting skills.

        “They attacked me first, but failed to kill me because – um — Tamlin, who was invaluable, told me blinks before the blows struck. Then it was just a bloody and vicious fight.              “Almost all my men – and that includes women, of course – were hurt, some, such as Brak, very seriously. He was standing at my side and took many of the injuries meant for me. But we also did enough damage that I think they considered coming to the Keep risky with their diminished numbers. We were harried all the way from their business, struggling to get Brak here as quickly as possible.

          “Then you bunch of rebels appeared, and they withdrew. I am not thrilled that you ignored my orders, but you probably saved Brak’s life. We managed to deliver him to Lira in time, and I will always be grateful.

          “Now, what happened here? You came in a short time, and Leran said you were suited up and the horses saddled, and a wagon ready? What were you doing?”

          Peter told the story quickly and succinctly, reporting to Steel instead of Hughes.

          “So you went through the whole compound and you think you destroyed the Slavers and their warriors and guards?” Steel confirmed. “But why did you even go in? You were supposed to just make sure our retreat was secured. There might have been hundreds of men in there!”

          “With respect, Lord Steel, no,” Jones said. “You would not have left with as little opposition as you did had there been that many well-trained soldiers left at that warehouse. They would have just rushed out after you and cut you down. You were already injured and weary. Yet most stayed, some few followed and tried to do some damage. Obviously no-one was in charge, they were vulnerable. In fact, we only encountered about a dozen warriors altogether, the rest were Slave Hounds as we saw on the ship, not good fighters at all!”

          “Thank you, Jones. He’s right, Lord Steel,” Peter agreed. “And if the enemy is vulnerable, that is the time to strike!”

          “Leran told you not to go.”

          “I explained that, my Lord,” Neal said. “The message you sent was for the soldiers to stay here. They did. Shiral called the others back from Sea Keep. We knew you were hurt and that you had lost mounts. Even if all we had done was to bring you enough new horses, it would have helped. Did you think we were going to leave all of you out there and sit and do nothing? Us? Have you learned nothing of the Earthling spirit, Lord?”

          “Neal, I feel just at present that I have had far too much of what you call the Earthling spirit! So, you moved through their buildings and fought their soldiers and killed all you found?”

          “Yes, my Lord. They don’t ambush our Lord and get away with it…and take innocent Earthlings!” Peter said. “Neal and Mozzie found safes full of booty…gold, jewels, but many, many thousands of personal items that Earthlings and other species would have been wearing when snatched. All kept and probably prepared for sale at some point. My wedding ring may be in there!  

       “Neal and Mozzie collected it, and started taking it to the wagon and then we helped.”

          “Why?” Steel asked. “You were putting yourselves further at risk.”

          “There were a few random Slaver soldiers after that, but most of them were down by then.”

          “Their wealth was just lying around for you to find? I am skeptical!” Steel frowned.

          “No, not lying around,” Neal told him. “I just looked for the most fortified area and, as is often the case, that was where all their goodies were. In safes, behind a thick vault-like door.”

          “So…what? You wasted more time getting through their defences?”

          “But Lord Steel,” Neal grinned, “the others were just rounding up strays, and I told you I can get through most locks…any of those, work of a moment. A short time. A few breaths.” Time was still a difficult thing to translate. “Mozzie had made me some – um – tools for opening locks if we happened to find any…I keep them with me, just in case.”

          Peter looked to Heaven, represented by the Greatroom’s ceiling.

          “No guards, nothing?”

          “Thinking back,” Neal admitted, “Conan the Barbarian was probably the guard. He's the one who gave me the thigh-wound. He took me by surprise but, with Dam’s help, he also went down. I was very fortunate, and I must thank Leran, Joster – and Diana, when we were back on Earth – for great training.”

          “Conan…?” Steel asked, surprised. “He told you his name?”

          The Earthlings chuckled.

          “No,” Neal went on. “He was just a huge hulk with a sword to match, he reminded me of a fictional warrior on Earth. Quick, too, for that great size.”

          “The dogs were useful?” Steel smiled down fondly at the two, snoozing peacefully by his chair.

          “They not only led us there, they found each hiding place and saved all our lives at least once,” Peter told him. “They were splendid! I didn't know where Dam had gone - she was with Neal - but Des kept alerting us to the presence of a man here or there. We probably would have withdrawn had we not had them there, and that would have been a pity!”

          “So you wasted time taking their wealth?” Steel demanded. Neal glanced under his eye-brows at Peter, who cleared his throat and said,

          “I had the same reaction, my Lord, but Neal and Mozzie were right. That amount of wealth in the hands of bad men can only lead to bad things. These were really **evil** beings.”

          "But by then you were all injured, Elijah and Neal badly…was it worth it?”

          The team looked at each other, and left Peter to answer. “Yes, my Lord, it was. I’m not saying that these people are not important, are not very dear to me and to each other. But to stop these …these brutes that were causing so much misery, who have no compassion, we would all have given up our lives gladly.” The Earthlings, including Elizabeth and June, were nodding their heads. “And if we had left it was very possible they would have got away with the money and started again.

          “And – I know it may seem foolish, but if we have found people’s wedding rings and things like that – they may have lost their spouse, this may be the only thing left, and the slavers took it.

          “None of us are sorry we did what we did.”

          And I told him I would be all right, my Lord,” Neal said. “I would have been, even if it had been Mozzie at the end of our journey home. Lira – well, I had no doubts. I have been badly injured, worse than that, before. On good days, I had Mozzie there to help.”

          “So now there may be a few men left, and the ship,” Steel murmured, looking away, thinking.

          “Um, no, Lord,” Peter corrected. Steel glanced up. Peter cocked his head at Mozzie, who was as usual sitting looking as though he was meditating and hardly aware of his surroundings. “Mozzie…Sir Mozzie…torched the place. I’m not sure how. I just saw it start to fall to a series of explosions.”

 ** _“Explosions?”_** Steel just gazed at Mozzie. “So that is why you took the wagon!”

          “Often useful to have a method of transport, Lord Steel,” Mozzie pointed out.

          “Please, Sir Mozzie,” Steel inclined his head, “please tell us about these explosions and how you decided to do that?”

          “Oh, Lord, all I knew was that you and your soldiers had been attacked at a business meeting or perhaps on the road. But, Lord,” Mozzie smiled an impish grin, “explosives can never be gratuitous or if they prove to be so can be brought back in the same wagon! The wagon can be used for bringing back injured men, or whatever one finds lying around looking for a new home.” Mozzie waved his hands around artlessly. Neal grinned at him in delight.

          “Ah,” Steel nodded.

          “I am not a warrior with knives, swords and muscles…or not often,” Mozzie went on, “though there have been times when extreme methods have been required, and I have performed the task fate assigned me with efficiency.  

                            “In this instance, there were well-trained agents doing the killing without assistance from me. We had all seen the evil slave ship, I decided that it was well past its prime and needed to be scrapped. I set the charges and when we were nearly finished, set alight the fuses and the munitions did what they were designed to do. We did not stay for all the fireworks, Lord, but I think you will find that the ship will not be…spaceworthy…for a while, and with no money to pay for repairs, the business is in foreclosure.”

          “But where did you get any explosives?” Peter demanded. “I do not believe you stowed away with a bunch of mines and C4 and blasting caps and so on and on when you boarded the slave ship after Elizabeth just in case they might not be gratuitous!”

          “No, Suit, I unfortunately had no time to plan that little trip!” Mozzie was a little miffed. “But I did have ten minutes to plan this one.”

          “B-but…I still don’t see where…?”

          “Sir Mozzie, is this a secret you wish to keep?” Steel asked, courteously.

          Peter huffed in disbelief, but Mozzie smiled. “Perhaps, Lord. But – well, I found some ingredients at the start of my stay here, or soon after. You seemed to be an alien of integrity, but who can tell? I have dealt with con-men and lawmen all my life and some of them – perhaps I might say most of them - cannot be trusted. Especially an alien, with different tells and tricks…you might have been a grey in disguise, a huge reptilian, a devil or an angel.”

          The FBI agents all grinned and looked at each other in amazement at this statement. Neal glanced at Steel and shook his head just slightly.

          “If one is in a situation that may turn out to be extremely dangerous, one would be negligent not to take any precautions that one may.” Mozzie nodded, deciding that he agreed with his own statement. “So I mixed some chemicals, tested the results and made some…bombs, for want of a better word. Perfectly stable, my Lord, till properly detonated.”

          “That must have been a lot of explosives!” Jones commented. “That big explosion? It wasn’t C4 or anything, but…”

          Mozzie beamed at him. “If the job is done the means may be irrelevant. It was a little tedious, and at times rather exciting, since I did not know where all the Slaveship warriors were hidden, but I dragged many bags of flour onto the highest vantage point I could easily reach. One of the first explosions, though you couldn’t see it, was to spread the flour so that it filled as much of the air within the building as possible. One of the later explosions set it alight.”

          “That’s why you shut the doors so carefully! You turned the whole building into a bomb!” Diana exclaimed, happily.

          “Hmm. You Earthlings seem to like your flour, yes, Neal?”

          “Bread is a staple, back on Earth, my Lord,” Neal nodded, earnestly.

          “So all my Earthling slaves, other than Elizabeth and June, put their lives at risk, helped us get home, fought and killed – with the help of my two fluffy warriors – some number of evil men, took away their treasure and demolished their building and ship?” Steel verified. “The treasure is now sitting in a wagon guarded by four of our soldiers in the stableyard? And all this against direct orders.”

          Neal put up his hand as though he was in kindergarten, waving a piece of paper. Steel looked over. “Sir, um – there are also a great many documents from the offices of the Slavers. This is one page at random. They are not in Sheel, so I couldn’t ascertain what they said, but they may prove criminal activities.                                                                                                        "And your orders were ambiguous, at best, my Lord.”

          “Neal, shut up!” Peter told him. “Listen to authority, for once!”

          “They were ambiguous,” Neal argued with him. “You obey orders most of the time. You might not have, what you did was exactly right and the Lord knows it. But in this case, you did not disobey any clear orders.”

          “And Mozzie?” Peter grinned at him.

          “Well, Lord Steel **_certainly_ ** didn’t tell us not to blow up the building!” Neal pointed out.

          The Lord frowned. “There were many, many things I did not mention in my orders. That does not mean I condone them!”

          “What is wrong, Lord Steel,” Diana asked. “We’ve messed up, haven’t we?”

          “Elijah, no-one is happier than I that you destroyed that nest of evil,” Steel sighed. “I often take similar actions on my own…though I admit, I have never demolished the whole enterprise.

           “But – but one of the reasons I wanted to speak to those Slavers, or perhaps capture some important members of the organisation, was to find out where your planet is in relation to ours. As it is, if we cannot find some high-ranked person left alive, and if nothing can be found sifting through the records Neal took, I have now no way of getting you home.”

There was a sudden, complete silence.

The Earthlings sat, deep in thought, remembering everything on Earth that was now inaccessible. Forever.       

          After what seemed a long pause, June spoke up. “Lord Steel, we have lost our planet. But I, for one, feel the sacrifice is well worth it. Those Slavers would have gone back over and over, nothing would have stopped them but total annihilation. And not to our planet alone! Who knows how many others!

          “I am sorry we are stranded here, Sir, but it is worth the price. I am not by nature any more violent than Mozzie and Neal…well, perhaps a little more open to violent means of problem solving when nothing else seems viable…but they deserved to die. Every last one of them!”

          “There is still a small chance we will find someone from that group who knows,” Steel said, sympathetically, seeing their distress. Neal, who wanted the chance to stay, would still like it to be his decision! “Or the records brought back may help.”

Steel tried to imagine being taken from his home by force, as he had tried at other times, feeling compassion for grieving slaves. To lose all friends, all the little, comfortable, familiar things, his language, his animals, his clothing…everything. Mozzie had told him how different the stars were here, how many of the utilities that humans needed, though providing for similar needs, were different technlogies. The music here used a different scale and sounded odd to them.

He’d explained that the Earthlings used some sort of feathered birds for eggs – everything had been strange for them. They had come to adapt, but it was very different if they were thinking of this as temporary. One could put up with many awkward things for a time. To have lost ‘home’ forever would be a sickening feeling.

He still puzzled that Neal would consider staying under any circumstances. For him, Steel Keep would always be ** _home_** ; he would walk across the frozen wastes to attempt to return to it.

“Well,” Elizabeth said, standing and shaking out her skirts and retying her hair in a determined manner, “so be it! The evil bastards – sorry, my Lord, June, but they were – are dead by the hands of our warriors, the Earthlings and our Lord. As June pointed out, they deserved it. If that means we stay here, well, we stay.

          “I am assuming that our positions here don’t change, my Lord Steel?”

          “No, of course not, Elizabeth!” Steel exclaimed. “What – think you that I will now treat you poorly because you have no hope of escape to your planet?”

          “No, I didn’t think that, my Lord,” Elizabeth smiled a little wryly, “I just thought that since we are going to be here forever – for the rest of our lives – that you may wish us to take more permanent positions, do different work.”

          “I am pleased with the things you accomplish, my dear Elizabeth,” Steel told her with rare affection. “And though I am …shall we say concerned?…that most of you Earthlings choose to interpret order and rules rather than obey to the letter, I have little to complain about in terms of your effectiveness.

          “Peter did what he thought was best, and though on one hand his team did our planet a great service, I wish he had checked with me, as we might have kept a few top slavers alive and found you a way home. It is for this reason I worry about you taking things upon yourselves, that you have less knowledge, at least local knowledge.”

           “No use crying over spilt milk, my Lord!” Elizabeth said. “What is done is done.”

          “I am sorry, Elizabeth.”

          She smiled a little. “We all knew, always, that the chances of finding a way home for us were very slim. You have given us a second home, thank you, Lord Steel. I shall now go and help Ophera with the meal preparation, by your leave.”

          Steel nodded at her, and she walked out. The others looked at each other. Peter smiled proudly and Jones said to him, “That is one classy, brave lady you married, Boss!”

          “Isn’t she? Wonderful!” Peter agreed.

          “Again, my friends, I am sorry,” Steel said. “I shall go through the papers Neal has secured, perhaps there will be some clue.” He rose and went to his office.

The Earthlings looked at each other, shrugged sadly, and went back to work. Except Peter.

 

 

End of Chapter 22

Glad you're still reading and enjoying! I so enjoy all your different responses to the story! Please keep commenting where commenting is due! Thanks!

 


	23. Emotional Switchback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Earthlings have no way of knowing how to get home. What will their future be, now. How will Steel react to their independence?

 

Steel had asked Leran to send two of the young soldiers to his study with some of the paperwork recovered from the slavers warehouse. It was there for him, and he opened the bags and took out the sheaves of papers, what looked like letters, some records, something that looked like journal entries…Neal had tried to keep the papers in the same sort of order, perhaps, but the slavers hadn’t kept their papers in any sort of order! He started sorting, reading bits here and there. Cortican Standard wasn’t as easy for him as Sheel, and the poor handwriting, often smudged or faded lettering was going to be a trial.

He sighed. The chances of finding the co-ordinates written on one of these papers was small. The helmsman had probably just entered them into the ship’s computational machines, or had it entered for him by their offworld partners.

There was a knock on the door-frame and he looked up, hoping for a reprieve or someone who could read Cortican easily!

 

It was Peter.

 

Somewhat surprised, Lord Steel nodded and waved an inviting hand. Peter walked a little way into the room. Then a thought obviously occurred to him and he turned and closed the door behind him. Steel sat back and observed. He had never seen Peter as uncomfortable as this in all the time he’d owned him. Not even when he was being pressured to go and mate with an unknown slave girl…then he’d just been angry and frustrated! He wondered what was going on in Peter’s mind.

Steel had read Peter correctly. Peter was used to being in charge, or reporting to others up a chain of command he understood, within sets of rules and policies and procedures he was used to, comfortable with. He had never since graduating felt controlled except by Kellar, and sometimes Neal, and he hated it with a fierce passion!

He had been taken captive by Kellar and worse, had Elizabeth taken and used against him. Now he was a captive so far away from home, with all his backup team _**here**_ , also enslaved. Neal and Mozzie were here. He knew without thinking that they would move heaven and earth to free him from custody…well, Mozzie would do it for Neal, but the effect would be the same. And scary as the thought of what those two might do to secure his release, this was all worse. They not only couldn’t save him – they had gone native and become much too comfortable with the captors.

He berated himself a little. He’d been only too eager for Neal to become comfortable with **_him_ ** when he was Neal’s captor, _handler_ , he’d enjoyed Neal leaning on him, and saving him out of affection and a sense of loyalty….

Peter sighed. No-one else could do this, he had to try. Despite the fact that the thought made bile rise in his throat. Only he could do it, he had caused some of the problems, and it was not going to get any easier, so he might as well get on with it.

He stood straight on to Steel’s desk, and bowed his head. Then, to Steel’s vast surprise, Peter went down on his knees. He’d seen Neal submit to Steel. Steel never asked for it, but he responded well to Neal doing it.

 

 _On the other hand,_ thought Peter _Neal makes it look graceful and fluid. I’m getting too old for this sort of thing, or perhaps I’m too hidebound in every way._

         He kept his head down and asked, “My Lord Steel, may I speak?”

          Steel observed this performance and, though a small part of him wanted to laugh, this was so obviously one of the most difficult things Peter had ever forced himself to do and he realised the effort and how gravely Peter viewed the situation. He said, calmly, “Of course you may, Peter.”

          There as a pause as Peter got his thoughts in order.

          “My Lord Steel, you bought me and my friends, and before you did that you asked for my word that I would, in essence, be a good slave to you. I promised, my Lord, but I haven’t kept that promise.”

          Steel waited, though his heart wanted to speak.

          Peter went on, “I have openly shown disapproval of your position, in that you own people. On my world, that is not acceptable, but it is your way of life and I had no right to judge you. You are generous and kind to your slaves, yet I have been difficult and stubborn.”

          Peter swallowed, but went on resolutely, “I know you were teasing me about going to have intercourse with a stranger, and that it was Elizabeth, but the only reason, as you pointed out, that your teasing worked was that everyone in my team knew I would contest you in that, and as a slave I had no right whatsoever to question your orders and openly, in front of your men, defy you. I would not have allowed that behaviour from anyone in my team.                                           __________“Likewise, I should have listened to your orders about the warehouse. I – I have not upheld your lordship and authority over us all, and so my team still call me Boss and think of me that way. So I have undermined your authority, and they followed me when otherwise they might have at least questioned my decision more strongly. It is entirely my fault that you cannot find our way home.”

          Steel still remained silent.

          Peter hoped he could get this speech over with quickly and perhaps settle all these problems, as his knees were really beginning to complain; he wasn’t enjoying any aspect of this. He went on, more hesitantly, “I am aware that, for myself, I should ask you for no leniency, I do not deserve it. I am the one that caused the problem. You have told me that slaves who do not fit in and are not compliant are best sold.

          “You probably are thinking that I would be a prime candidate for being sold and removed. And – and I would agree with you, Lord Steel. I would not argue except for Elizabeth. I don’t know why she loves me, but she does, and would be heartbroken if you sold me and kept her here. Likewise, you have no reason to find me a good new master, but if you send us both away I would have done her a great harm if – if we ended up in a dreadful situation, like Di- Elijah’s.                                                

 .....“I am asking you to keep us all here, please, Lord Steel, and I will be obedient and uphold your authority. Even Neal was arguing with you because he trusted my leadership in a situation that was rather like a White Collar team exercise at home. I most humbly apologise, my Lord.”

          Peter remained kneeling, his eyes on the floor. Steel stood and his chair made a harsh sound against the floor and Peter actually flinched. He heard Steel’s soft boots approach and then Steel’s hand on his shoulder.

          “Peter, get up!”

Peter put one hand to the floor, not wanting to overbalance. Steel put a hand under his elbow and helped him. Then the Lord backed off a step.

          “Peter, look at me. I think I understand how very difficult this was for you. But you have misread me, Peter. I have no thought whatsoever of selling any of you.                                          “Oh, I will not say you are all the most obedient, compliant, placid slaves! I hardly understand your motivations, some of you, most of the time!                                                                                     _____________“And it has been hardest for you, the leader, the Boss, as your team calls it. If I was suddenly in your command, in your team, on Earth, I doubt I would be any better at refraining from questioning your orders, because I have been, since my youth, in charge of the whole Keep.                    

.............“Peter, you have taken a great deal of leadership in the stables, you have been a great help. And yes, I admit, I sometimes wish you would be less confrontational, but you are settling down much more than when you were first here, am I wrong? It was just this military exercise that caused you to attack an enemy in the most efficient way you felt was possible. None of the Earthlings, I believe, hold it against you that those actions may have lost you a way home…there is no surety that they would ever have given up the location of your planet at all. It was a slim chance, after all.

          “Come, we need to assemble the Earthlings again, in case there are others with this fear in their hearts. Can you call them into the Greatroom, as you all call it, and I will be there in a short while?”

          Peter, rather amazed that his fears had proven completely unfounded, walked into the Greatroom and asked his ear-bug to call all the Earthlings: Elizabeth, Elijah, Caleb, June, Neal and Mozzie. He sank down onto a chair, feeling both relief and a vast weakness from putting himself in a vulnerable, submissive position with Steel.

          The Earthlings arrived, in ones and twos, surprised. Peter shook his head and told them that Steel had asked them to gather there. Steel himself arrived before Caleb, who had headed out to the farm buildings, hurried in, an apology on his lips.

          Steel waited till Caleb seated himself next to his son, and stood in front of them. “Peter came to me with a very important question. I am sorry I felt it necessary to bring you back so soon.”

          Neal looked over at Peter, who had his arm around Elizabeth. Peter felt his eyes and turned his head. Seeing Neal’s look of concern, he smiled, still a little nervous from his meeting with Steel. Neal smiled back, and looked back to Steel as the Lord said,

          “I …um…collected all of you in a very short time. It is unusual I have a group. It usually causes trouble – they bond together and do not mingle and resist change. On top of this, you – perhaps all your species, but definitely all of you – are very intelligent, self-motivated men and women. That is often not a good set of characteristics for slaves!

          “Peter came to me and asked if, now that it seems likely that you will be staying here, not returning to Earth, if I was considering selling any of you.”

Steel was watching the group and it was quite obvious that no-one else had given that a moment’s thought! He was glad, they felt at home and trusted him to some extent, at least. And if Neal and Mozzie didn’t, they would just escape, anyway!

          “Peter expressed concern that some of you had not been as compliant as a good slave should. That is true. It is not an easy thing for free men and women to retrain themselves to being totally obedient and responsive to every order and whim of their master, their lord, their owner.              

..........“Let me be clear, had you been bought by any other lord of my acquaintance, there is not one of you who would have escaped censure and probably punishment – except June. Even Elizabeth – she kissed me! It was to thank me, but any other lord, being kissed by a slave – a _slave!_ – would have punished her! It is unthinkable presumption!”

          Elizabeth looked stricken.

          Steel smiled at her. “Elizabeth, I knew you meant no harm, I understood that you had no concept of the correct behaviour. Others would have punished you to teach you and your friends to ‘keep in line’, I think you say. They want their slaves to comply to rules and regulations without thought and without any interpretation…” The young Lord stood, looking down, thinking a moment. “I am probably still unwise and taking unnecessary risks, but I can feel your thoughts a very little, your emotions a little more. I have never wanted that level of obedience. Like machines.                                    

......“So I have no wish to sell any of you. I know that this last action with the Slavers was something that angered me, because some of you could have been killed. Perhaps I was wrong in my judgement, as you all made it home safely. I did not realise how effective the dogs would be, either!     

......"This situation was a little different. There was little time. But – but – in future you must consult with me. It might be a matter of protocol – you do **_not_** kiss the lord, at least not without his invitation! It may be a matter of what you think is right in a situation, but you need to ask my permission or advice first – it is **_not_** acceptable to move the lord’s property around the Keep!” He glared at Neal, who looked up and grinned back.                                                             __________  “That is what I wish to say to you all.”

          Peter stood up, keeping his head bowed. “Thank you, my Lord. We truly were blessed when you came and found the three of us, and then all the rest of us. We will try and be ..obedient. Well, some of us will!” He glanced back at Neal and Mozzie, sitting together.

          Steel said, mildly, “Nothing I have said concerns Sir Mozzie, who is a freeman.”

          “Lord Steel,” Diana said, politely, “is it possible to find the Slavers’ partners? Would they know the co-ordinates of Earth?”

          “Elijah, I know for a fact that the Slavers were partnered with off-world beings. These beings were, I believe, in charge. Our Slavers were useful, removing people who could fight, causing terror and chaos so that the otherworlders’ work was easier. They may never even have given our Slavers the co-ordinates. I believe they can put the information in the computing instruments of the ships in a form that even the pilot cannot access, though I know very little of these things.”

          “And we caused no problem, blowing things up, Lord Steel?” Caleb asked.

          “No. They are a gang of thugs, no-one will champion their cause. It was not done on public space, it was entirely confined to their buildings. I sent riders to see, and there is nothing left but wreckage.” He couldn’t help but smile. “I would rather you did not do such a thing again unless it is part of a plan **_I_** orchestrated! – but I am glad they are gone and more than gone.

          “I am very sorry you are, in all likelihood going to be staying here, missing your home. You must tell me about it, all the beauty and the people. Neal can paint some – landscapes? Have I that correctly? And we will all make you feel at home here, I promise. And unless you are putting your lives at risk, you need not be **_too_** worried about being perfect slaves. The shock might damage my health!”

          The Earthlings smiled, but he had made them think of the beaches, the forests, the birds and animals that were forever lost to them – the smells, the friends and family, the little rituals and traditions and fun things they’d done back home. Peter thought of baseball games, the smell of popcorn and hot-dogs. Neal thought of museums and the lovely old architecture of Europe. Elizabeth thought of all her friends and work-mates. June thought of Christmas mornings with her family, the lovely smell of holiday food. Diana suddenly thought of holding a lovely, balanced weapon and firing it at a target, and hitting the centre every time! Jones just thought of his mama and his girl and how he’d never introduced them.

          Mozzie thought with regret of his incredibly complex and secret network of aliases, bank accounts, safe-houses, tunnels, contacts with various skills, fences he could trust and some he couldn’t, but had to bribe or threaten…oh, all the good things in his life!…but they might have been destroyed in the war, so he wasn’t going to think of them any more! Just start again here…!

 

          Lira came drifting through with Tamlin and Shiral, to check her Earthling patients. She had been working on so many people at once, many quite badly injured, and wanted to make sure all was right.

          She sang some querying notes, and Tamlin said, “She asks why they are sad? Healing never works well if people are sad!” Shiral waved at them and hurried off.

          Steel moved his shoulders, uncomfortably. “We may have lost the only way of getting them back to their planet, back home. We do not even know where it is!”

          “Oh, Elijah, everyone, I am so sorry!” Tamlin exclaimed.

          Another phrase of song, sounding a little surprised and Tamlin translated, “Lira says, ‘Well, just send them home’ !”

          Steel stood up and went to the tall Chiri. “My Lady, it is not that simple. These Earthlings have no idea how to tell us where their home planet is from here, and we now have no way of knowing, since the only ones we know knew the way are all dead. We would send them if we could, my dear.”

          She looked over the group with her strange eyes, full of compassion, and this time spoke so the ear-bugs could translate, “They love their home?”

          “Yes,” Steel nodded. Lira sang back. Steel looked a little confused, and Tamlin said, sounding even more puzzled, “ ‘Then we know were it is.’ ”

          Steel hesitated, confused as to how to explain to her. She sang a long phrase and Steel looked at Tamlin, shaking his head. Tamlin said, “She says, my Lord, ‘If you love someone, then where they are is not important. All that is in love is in the…here and now’ ?”

          Steel smiled up at her and nodded. “That is true, Lady, but we do not know where to point a spaceship, even if we had one.”

          Again the Chiri sang, then said in her soft, lilting voice, “ ‘Why use something as ugly and stupid as a ship?’ ”

          “We’re missing something here!” Steel smiled, tiredly. “Perhaps I need more healing than I thought! Lira, my dear, they live on a planet a long, long way from here, across space. You live in a world of beauty and health and green growing things…but this is hard fact.”

          Suddenly Lira’s face lit up with laughter. Everyone in the room felt light and joyous, all cares faded, everyone smiled at her as she sang while Neal thought _Allegro! Light and gay!_

          Tamlin repeated, dumbfounded, “ ‘We sometimes forget what you do not know, children. If they love this place, we can send them there. Normally you send them home in wagons, it is calm and good. But no wagon can cross space. But we can send them there. When you send for me, I come. You know this. I do not bring a horse or wagon.’ ”

          “Oh!” Steel said. “I do know that. But you come from a nearby Keep or your own home, Lira, this is millions of times further.”

 _Little fleas have lesser fleas…or something!_ thought Neal _We are children to Steel, he is as a child to the Chiri…what she thinks of **us** …!_

          Lira sang and smiled, putting her hand very gently on Steel’s hair. Tamlin told them, “ ‘It takes a long while to walk a long way if we are trying to be in haste, because it becomes work. It is not the same walk if one walks with a loved one in joy; it is never long enough. If one moves through time and space on the waves of love, nowhere is far from anywhere.’ ”

          “Hah!” Mozzie said. “Relativity and string theory and – ”

          “Steel, please ask her to say clearly: Lira can send us all home?” Peter interrupted, getting up.

          “She understands us all, Peter,” the Lord said.

          Lira sang and Neal felt that he could almost hear what she was singing. Tamlin said, “ ‘Plainly, Peter, yes, I can.’ ”

          The Earthlings all stood, looked at each other. Many of them hugged. There were whispers of , “We can go home! We can go _home!_ ”

          “But I don’t understand…if you know where to send us, well, firstly, how do we get a ship and a captain and...?” Peter was insistent. The last captain, after all, would have resold them!

          “No ship, Peter,” Lira said, softly, going over to him.

          “But – but – our species can’t take the near-vacuum of space, Lira,” he said, obviously confused.

          “There is no space between here and there to move through,” she said, smiling at him. But even her smile didn’t weigh with him. This was the safety of his team – and the man who’d saved his wife!

          “It is like this, Peter, we do not move you, we move the appearance of space,” she tried again. He shook his head, humbly, not understanding.

          She picked up the piece of paper Neal had waved at Steel, which had been left on the table. She made a dent in each end. “If you look at the paper as flat, Peter, these marks are far apart. But if you curl the paper,” she suited her actions to her words, “they come together.”

          “That’s exactly how Sam explained it In Quantum Leap!” Mozzie grinned. “Only with string. And in his lifetime, not across space. But if space and time are interchangeable, it’s the same!”

          Peter looked at Steel. “Do you understand this, my Lord?”

          Steel shook his head. “No, Peter. But the Chiri lie not. It seems fantastic to me, too.”

          “So, Lira, you are saying it would be instantaneous?” Neal asked.

          “Yes, Neal.”

          “You could send us, take us…we could go home _now?”_ Peter demanded.

          Steel glanced at the rest of the Earthlings. There was sudden reservation on many faces. Diana looked at Tammy. El was studying her fingernails. Neal looked at Mozzie and their faces were a study in confusion. June looked at Neal with something like grief. Jones looked puzzled by Lira’s explanation, but he wanted to go home. Peter’s face, still sceptical, showed the light of hope.

          “As soon as you wish, my friends,” Lira told them.

          “We need to ascertain how safe it is, Lira, their planet was in the middle of a war…and,” he looked straight at her and she nodded, “they need to work out when would be best for them to go. They need to discuss this. It has come as something of a shock for all of us!”

          “I will stay a while. I wish to see Brak on his feet. Coming back from so far away is traumatic to your species, Caerrovon, dear,” Lira said, and drifted out. Tamlin gave Diana a desperate look and hurried after her.

          “Brak was far away, but Earth is near?” Jones chuckled.

          “We can go home! We’ve seen what she can do…we can go home!” Peter was standing looking at the dented paper in his hands.

          “Peter, we need to decide some things, first,” Steel said, gently.

          “You’re not going back on your word!” Peter turned on him, and Steel shook his head.

          “Peter, look at your team!”

          Peter glanced round, then looked again. “But – but we can go home! Well, we need to know it’s safe, but then we can go home! What’s wrong with you all, why are you looking like that?”

          “Peter, of course we want to go home,” El said, going over to him and hugging him. “But this has also become home. We’ve made friends here. This is forever. It isn’t that easy.”

          Mozzie said to Steel, “Lord Steel, may Neal and I be excused, please?”

          “Assuredly, Sir Mozzie. We all need time to consider.”

 

 

End of Chapter 23

 

I must thank some of you for your interest and passion in my little - well long, but little story. Thank you for your objections and criticisms and comments.


	24. Fifty-eight days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can all just pack and go home. They all can. But it's forever, and do they want to?

 

 

 

          Steel watched the Earthlings and felt his heart break just a little. This was a difficult decision for them, and also his Keep would miss them greatly.

         **_He_** would miss them.

          After a time, he went to his study, leaving them talking, feeling that they might speak more freely without him there.

          Meanwhile, Mozzie had led Neal to his own workroom, past Neal’s studio. Neal didn’t follow immediately, he was caught by the canvases and sculptures-in-progress, all the lovely paints and brushes Steel had bought him. He wasn’t ready to leave! Would he ever be ready to leave? He loved Peter and El, though the feelings seemed to be fading now, like an old painting left in the sun too long…and to a slightly lesser extent Jones and Diana, and if June went without him it would be dreadful, but – he loved it here, too. He loved many of these people, too…bright, smart, affectionate little Junoel, the children he was teaching about art, just starting out, Brak and Ophera, the good and open Joster…Steel.

                              Steel.

          Like June, Steel was very special. One there, one here. Whatever he did, he was going to be hurt.

          Here he was a slave, but there he was a prisoner…with a large cell a present, but **_always …!_**

What a pity he wasn’t like Peter, ready to leave at a second’s notice. What a pity he couldn’t be sure.

          “Come, I have something to show you,” Mozzie called, and he went through to find Mozzie holding a large piece of (Steel’s) paper, covered in the same little five-mark:  down, down, down, down, strike-through marks that had adorned his cell wall.

          “What is that?” he asked Mozzie, trying to be interested.

          “That, mon frère, is the number of days we’ve been here.”

          “Oh?” Neal said, wondering if his face looked like Peter’s listening to Lira!

          “The number of _Earth_ days, Neal,” Mozzie pointed out.

          “Oh,” Neal repeated, then his brain kicked in, taking over from his heart. “How could you possibly know that?”

          “I wasn’t kidnapped, remember? I stowed away. I know that time is not that important to us, but timing often is vital. I was wearing my watch.” He showed Neal the analogue watch, the second hand sweeping contentedly.

          “And you don’t believe in battery-powered digital watches, it’s…Mozzie, you’ve been winding it all this time?”

          “Yes, and marking the days.”

          “I must be stupid today because I can’t see…”

          “Neal, you are two months from finishing your sentence. Two Earth months. Fifty-eight days to be exact. You’ve been in Agent Burke’s custody – ” he waggled his hand, “ – more or less. And if you had been taken captive on Earth, or were in hospital, or some other legitimate reason for not being at the FBI buildings, that would have counted to your sentence. The clock, as it were, would not have stopped.”

          “You did all this for me?”

          “Neal, I don’t know if it makes a difference. I was hoping that we would find a way to return when you’d finished it and were free. As it is, perhaps you need to make some hard choices.”

          “Peter isn’t going to wait fifty-eight days! He’s frothing at the mouth, and would leave in fifty-eight minutes if he could!”

          “But – but though I dislike bringing this up, and he has some very odd ways of demonstrating it, he cares for you and so does Mrs. Suit.”

          “Does it make that much difference? Being on the anklet or not?”

          “It gives you many choices, mon frère. You could stay in New York, even stay with June, but not be a snitch any longer…”

          “Problem! To the justice system I’m always a felon, never trustworthy. The same goes for our side…once a snitch, always a snitch. I would have potential enemies on both sides. Because of the system, and the way people are, never able to move on themselves or let others move on, I will always have that – what, blot on my escutcheon? – **_Always._** ”

          “I will agree to the blot: being caught.”

          “Oh, yeah. Not the successful crimes, of course – being caught! A felon is only a felon after he's caught! I'm sorry, Mozzie! The trouble I've caused you! I'll try not to, any more.”

          “Let’s be clear. I have enough money for you to never have to work for money ever. Be free of criminals and lawmen alike. We can retire wherever we wish to retire, including on June’s terrace. Or a little _pension_ in Paris, or a castle in Germany or a lovely, slightly delapidated farmhouse in Tuscany.”

          “That was a great time, in Italy, wasn’t it? One of our real homes. We had cats!”

          “I remember you and the cats!” Mozzie smiled at his friend.

          “You always are there to give me options and make my life easier, Mozzie. Thank you.”

          “I hesitated. I thought perhaps you would prefer to not know about this,” Mozzie waved his chart of days. “Decisions can be horrible things.”

          “I need to talk to Peter,” Neal said, firmly. “His attitude to this…and perhaps his take on the legal side of things…will make a difference, I think.”

 

Mozzie watched him as they walked back, a little sad. He knew that Neal wanted to see how much Peter cared. He knew Peter’s limitations, but respected the guy. It would have been far easier if he could hate the Suit.

 

          Neal led them to Steel’s study. Steel was there, going over some of the papers Neal had found at the warehouse. He looked up, saw them and smiled, waved them in.

          “My Lord, I need to talk to Peter, and thought perhaps you should be there,” Neal started. “Firstly, before I waste everybody’s time, you don’t mind if I choose to stay here, do you?”

          “And me, Lord Steel,” Mozzie told him, categorically. “We’re a package deal.”

          “I still have my reservations, you two. I think you would find it difficult in the long run. But I understand your problems back on your home planet, or think I do, Neal. Let me call for Peter.”

          “I’ll go and do it,” Neal said, and came back after a few minutes. About five minutes later, Peter walked in. Elizabeth followed him.

          “Neal? You wanted to see me?”

          “Peter,” Neal started, then paused and breathed deeply. “What would be the situation if we’d been trapped here for – oh, I don’t know – five years, and then found our way back? From a legal standpoint, vis-à-vis my sentence working with the Bureau.”

          Peter thought a moment and said, “You’ve been with me, you didn’t run, you were kidnapped, no question, you’d have served your time. But, hey, we can’t pretend we’ve been here five years, kiddo. I don’t know how long it’s been, but my hair isn’t much greyer and – ”

          “I’m fifty-eight days from the end of my sentence,” Neal broke in.

          There was a complete silence, then Peter said, “But – but how do you know that! We don’t have any idea how long the days are, here – ”

          “Mozzie’s watch,” Neal said, showing him the chart. He explained, and Peter’s eyes softened as he looked at Mozzie.

          “You are one hellava friend, Moz.”

          “We do what we can, Suit,” Mozzie said.

          “So if we could go back today, you’d only need to be on anklet for fifty-seven or -eight days, Neal? Wow!”

          “I know…I just don’t really want to go back on the anklet. At all. I’ve been talking to Steel. I’d rather stay here. The collar is so much more elegant!”

          Neal’s weak attempt at humour didn’t connect. Peter just stared at him. Eventually, Steel said, gently, “Neal has been talking about staying here, continuing his studies. Mozzie would stay, too.”

          Both El and Peter glanced at Steel, then focussed on Neal.

          “Neal! No!” El exclaimed.

          “You’d rather stay here as a slave than come _home?”_ Peter asked, angrily. Neal discounted that, Peter often sounded angry when he was worried or scared or upset or something other than angry. “I thought we were good together, we solved cases…I thought you enjoyed that.”

          “I do, Peter. If I’d come up through the ranks and joined the FBI and we ended up as a team, you, me, Diana and Jones…I’d really have liked that. Preferably without the mortgage fraud and the van and your devilled ham sandwiches…but still. And preferably with a lot more money and a nice place to live…but still. But as I told you once before, there were only a certain number of ways this could have ended. You know better than I that I am never **_not_** going to be a felon with a record. Here, I’m just a slave. Or an entrepreneur, or a Keeper, whichever papers I can manage!”

          Peter looked down. “That’s my fault. I love you, Neal, you’re like the son we never had, but you’re dangerously smart and instinctively crooked. I was always trying to remind myself of that, I shouldn’t have reminded you.

"You’ve really been considering staying for a while?”

          “I don’t have anywhere on Earth any more. The crooks know I’m a snitch, I don’t want to disappoint you by breaking the law, you’d have to put me away if you found out, and I enjoy breaking the law! It’s fun and exciting, so long as no-one gets hurt. My record is eternal. Can’t undo it even if I wanted to. I’ve thought about it and worried at it. It’s simple here.”

          “Steel, you wouldn’t let him stay, would you?” Peter begged.

          “I see what he is saying, he has discussed it all with me. He can stay here as long as I live, Peter. Which is a long time, barring accidents. His fault, or yours, it is not, but you are on different sides of a wall, from what he says. Even though you are very close friends, the wall remains and hurts both of you. Have you considered that _your_ life might be easier without Neal in it?”

          “Easier, less stressful, less maddening – absolutely! But, but – I wouldn’t _ever_ choose that. **_Never!_** ”

          “There have been times in the past when it sounded as though you would. This is a perfect solution.” Neal was looking calmly and seriously at him, and Peter’s eyes filled with tears.

          “I need time to think!” Peter exclaimed, and left.

          Elizabeth went over to Neal and said, “He never wanted you out of his life. He was miserable when you were in prison, and even when you were free and he hadn’t heard from you or heard about you. You don’t realise it, but you’re just as important to him as I am.”

          “You should have seen and heard him before we found you for him!” Neal laughed a forced laugh. “You wouldn’t say that.”

          “Yes, he had you, you were safe. So he worried about me. When you ran from Kramer, when you were out there in the world committing crimes, when you were inside – oh, when Kate was killed – he was nearly frantic, and I would start talking complete nonsense and he wouldn’t even notice! The phone calls that man made, trying to keep you safe! I’ve never told anyone this, but he used to wake in the middle of the night calling your name – I always assumed it was nightmares, but who knows?” She glittered up at Neal, and he took her in his arms and hugged her tight.

          “I’m sorry he ever caught my case, for so many, many reasons, Elizabeth. Please forgive me?”

          “Whatever you decide, Neal – and Mozzie – we’ll support you. In the end. Peter might have to throw a few towering tantrums first, though.”

          “I know. I’m used to them.” Neal grinned and let her go.

          “I’ll go and try and calm him down,” she said, and hurried after Peter.

          Neal looked across at Steel. “Thank you, my Lord, for giving us asylum.”

          “Always, Neal. Be sure it is what you want.”

 

 

          Rather to El’s surprise, she found Peter in the Library. Tamlin, Diana and Jones were there. Peter was striding up and down, they were all listening. He had obviously been talking hurriedly for some time.

          “But Peter – you’d never do that!” Jones was saying. “I know there are problems, but we do good work! We put away bad people…really bad people. Neal steals, but never except from very rich people, or banks or something…and they have insurance. I’m not saying it’s right, what he does, but he has ethics. Some of the people we’ve been after steal from great-grandmothers, charities…doesn’t matter. And though they come through White Collar, they’re sometimes murderers and kidnappers as well.”

          “And you know how much fun it was, Boss, chasing bad guys, with swords this time, but the whole team together, the three of us doing what we do, Neal going off and doing _his_ thing and us not knowing, and Mozzie being totally off the wall and blowing stuff up – but all of us working together, at least sort of! It was fun and _good!_ ”

          “I don’t know that Neal’s not right,” Peter said, running his fingers through his slightly longer-than regulation hair and wrecking it. “Perhaps El and I should just stay here. Make a brand new start, away from all the corruption.”

          “There’s corruption here, too, Peter, a huge amount of it!” El said, distressed. “You’ve been the one feeling most out-of-place, and now you want to stay here because Neal does?”

          “Oh, - El! I was just saying that perhaps I should leave the Bureau. Then Neal probably wouldn’t feel as threatened if he came back. We could all be friends.”

          “Are you really prepared to give up all you’ve worked for for **_Neal?_** _”_ Jones warned. “He’s put you in difficult situations often, Peter, and you’ve had to cover for him.”

          “Yes, and that would all go away if I left the Bureau.”

          There was a pause. Then Diana said, “Boss, if you leave the Bureau it would be a great loss. Don’t do it without thinking it through very carefully. What would you do instead? But – but if that’s what you want, really want, I’ll back you all the way.”

          “You could end up with someone like Ruiz!” Peter pointed out.

          “I killed one evil boss here, no doubt I could do away with a few on Earth!” Diana joked. “We knew you were fast-tracked for DC, Peter. We’d have lost you soon anyway.”

          “That’s true,” Jones nodded.

          “Thanks, guys,” Peter said. “Perhaps that’ll change Neal’s mind.”

          Neal said from the door, “What will change my mind?”

          “Oh! Neal!”

          “I called him, Boss,” Diana said. “He needs to hear this.”

          “What do I need to hear?” Neal queried and he and Mozzie came right in.

          “I’m thinking of leaving the Bureau,” Peter said.

          “ ** _What!_** “ Neal almost shouted. “Are you **_crazy?”_**

          “No, Neal, hear me out. What you and Mozzie said is true: there’s a lot of corruption in our government and it’s never going to change. And while I’m a government employee I have to support it, whether I want to or not.”

          “Peter, turn about is fair play: I’m a criminal and will never be anything else! You’re a lawman and will never be anything else! Remember the files on your neighbours!”

          Mozzie pushed his clear glasses up his nose and said, “At the risk of sounding unspeakably offensive, Suit, if anyone was born to be an FBI agent, it is you.”

          “I have an idea,” Jones said. “What about us all waiting here for fifty-seven days is it? – and then going back. Yes, Neal will always have a record, but we can keep an eye on him and protect him from too-zealous cops and agents. Look, Peter, not to put too-fine a point on it, we all know that Mozzie here – or whatever his real name is – is a bigger and better crook than Neal. Always has been, always will be. No offense, Moz.”

          “None taken, Caleb. I consider it an accolade.”

          “And I would cry challenge, but meanwhile make your point!” Neal stuck in. Then his face changed, his eyes scanned back and forth across the floor. 

“Actually, now that some of you can get home, I can’t even cry challenge…it would result in tens of thousands of indictments…clog up courts for years…thank goodness I’m staying here!…go on, Jones!”

          Jones went on. “Mozzie is a crook under the law. We have no definitive evidence and have never put any efforts into finding any. He’s our friend, on our side in many cases, and we know that he doesn’t hurt people except really bad people. That’s not supposed to matter to the law, but it matters to us. I can’t even say it safely except here on an alien planet! He helps us, we steadfastly look the other way when he’s doing his own thing. He’s not such a fool as to stick anything up our noses, so to speak, and force us to – ”

          “If that’s to my account…!” Neal frowned.

          “A hand-me-down cap must fit someone, but it doesn’t mean it was made for him!” Diana chuckled at Neal.

          “Cap! A cap! A hand-me-down _cap!”_ Neal spluttered.

          “Oh, hand-me-down fedoras are just doozy!” Peter accused, laughing, getting side-tracked by the headgear question.

          “Hand-me-down from Byron Ellington!” Neal sniffed. ‘Not. Just. Anyone.”

          Jones was sitting, looking steadily at the chair in the corner. El noticed, bit her lip, waved everyone quiet and said, courteously, “Dear Clinton-Caleb, sorry! – do go on!”

          “Well,” Jones said, and waited to see if anyone would interrupt before continuing, “why can’t we do that with Neal? He could come in as a consultant on interesting cases, he wouldn’t have an anklet, the Bureau might pay him, but I’m assuming that isn’t a huge problem, Neal?”

          “Don’t want to pay taxes!” Neal shook his head.

          “Don’t like where they’re going,” Mozzie agreed, then shrugged and nodded at Jones. “Money’s not a problem, Caleb.”

          “I love you two. I’ve never heard another human – sorry, Earthling! – say that, ever!” Diana smiled.

          “Neal could live at June’s, and she’s rich enough so that no-one would question where his money is coming from,” Jones continued. “Everyone’s already used to him coming in looking like a fashion plate on $700 a month!”

          “So glad you noticed! Thank you, Caleb!” Neal smiled brilliantly. “Nice that _somebody_ appreciates my efforts!” He glared at Peter melodramatically.

          “That might work,” El said, hesitantly. “If none of us mind waiting.” She looked at Peter.

          “But Neal isn’t sure he ever wants to come back. Are you, Neal?” Peter asked. He had himself in hand now, and wasn’t going to let his emotions get the better of him.

          Though Neal was happy being the centre of attention, this level of transparency was alien to him and he had to breathe deeply before answering,  

         “Peter, I do like working with all of you. But – but I’m not **_going_** to be working with you. You’re not going to be a field agent for long, you’ll be riding a desk. Who knows who the Bureau will partner me up with. You’ve really moved on, anyway.

          “ All the horrible things that have happened to us, we’re not the same carefree men, one chasing and the other running across the globe. Too much has happened. Terrible rifts between us. I see it in your eyes…you look at me and see the old Neal, then the memories kick in.

          “Yeah, I can come and live in New York and live a low-key life. It might even be fun for a while. I could paint. And after some amount of time I’d go mad and steal the Washington Monument or the Eiffel Tower, I’d be so bored! Here, Lord Steel himself is interested in my work. Don’t ask, perhaps aliens have less taste! I can teach, I can do more learning. I’m not going to be a burden.”

          “You could teach on…” Diana’s words failed.

          “Oh, yes, the new felon teacher starting this semester teaching art students Forgery 101. Don’t think so, Diana! Most parents wouldn’t want me to teach their children how to wash brushes – or cars! - I’m suspect, criminal, doesn’t matter that it isn’t pornography or murder, would _you_ want me teaching your children?”

          “Well, yes, but then I know you. You’re one of the good guys.”

          “That’s the problem with a society that lives by the numbers, not by the characters of the people,” Mozzie said, sadly. “All they see is forms. It’s not going to change. Not any time soon.”

          “You could sell your work under another – yet another – alias, Neal,” Elizabeth suggested, suddenly. “I’ll be your agent!”

          Neal turned to her and swung her off her feet in a hug, laughing. “That’s very sweet of you, Elizabeth, but it isn’t the same as having someone …well, like Lord Steel, he is really interested.” He put her down.

          “He forced you into painting. I can be pushy, too, Neal!” El declared.

          “She can, Neal,” Peter said, coming over to him. “Please, reconsider. I’m sorry I’ve ever made you feel as though you are less than…that you’re a…that you can’t change.”

          “No, Peter, you’re getting that wrong. Don’t beat yourself up.” Neal backed up a step. “I don’t want to change. I did try, but as you said, my instincts are to take the easy way, to steal or lie.”

          “I don’t care!”

          “Yeah, Peter, you do. Even if you did leave the FBI, you’d always care. Those are your instincts. Elizabeth doesn’t, so long as I don’t hurt anyone, but you always, always will.

          “We had some fun. This is where things change. Whether or not I stay here, we’ll never be the same. Leave it at that. Thank you all for all the good times, I forgive you for everything you did that hurt me, and hope you can do the same for me.”

          He turned and before anyone could stop him, he was gone. Peter went to the door, but wasn’t surprised to see no sign of Neal.

          Mozzie went to Elizabeth and shook her hand and said, “At first, we had some good times, Mrs Suit. Thank you for trying to help Neal and thank you for seeing who he was from the start. At the start.

          “Thank you all, Ms. Suit and Broad Suit and Just Plain Suit. I’m sure you all did the best you could within the narrow contraints of your morality and your profession. Especially you, Ms. Suit. I won’t forget your help. Keep safe!”

          None of them knew what to say to Mozzie, they felt in shock. He left and went in the opposite direction from that Neal had taken.

          After a long pause, Peter straightened his shoulders and brought up his chin and said, “Well, that’s that, then. They’ve made their decision. We all go home as soon as possible.”

          Diana saw that Elizabeth had tears in her eyes and was surprised when she felt a tear trickle down her cheek, tickling her. She dashed it away. Agents don’t cry.

          Then she thought _What the hell, I’m a damned acrobat!_ And put her face down into her hands and sobbed. Neal had been a very good friend on any number of occasions, she loved him and she wasn’t ashamed of that.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 24

Sniff! Some of you really wanted this up quickly..hope you enjoyed. I'm wanting to streeetch this out as long as possible, so be aware I did this just for you...you know who you are!


	25. Nothing Left to Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the Earthlings leave.

 

 

 

At that moment, Lord Steel walked into the room. He glanced around, shocked, picking up the jangling vibes. “What has happened?” he demanded.

Diana looked up and said, “Neal just said good-bye. His reasons are good. B-but he’s been part of us for so long…”

          Steel went over to her and put his hand on her shaking shoulder, looking across at Peter.

          Peter looked away. He didn’t have anything left to offer. He said, “I caught him, I kept him, for a while. You bought him, he seems to be yours. For a while.”

          “Neal is never caught or bought, Peter, he gives himself. I am surprised you never realised that,” Steel said. “I just came to tell you all that I just spoke to Lira. You do not have to go home together. We were all thinking about the transport as though we were hiring a spaceship. Lira will take you all home and then Neal and Mozzie later…but I suppose this information is now superfluous. From what Lira tells me, there should be no problem for you to return from a danger aspect. When you have all decided when you would go, please let me know. ”

          He turned and walked away. He might miss these Earthlings a great deal, but their loss would mean that Steel Keep would go back to the old, for the most part calm and peaceful place, free of drama and high emotion. So many of them, all new to slavery, had arrived all at once. Now he could get on with the task of going through all the papers Neal had taken from the warehouse. The Earthlings would all go and brood. He would have time. It was tedious, he wasn’t as happy reading Cortican Standard, and some of the handwriting was poor…but there were interesting facts about the operation.

          He was very surprised to find Neal and Mozzie in his study. He stopped dead and Neal apologised: “We didn’t think you’d mind if we came in and waited for you, my Lord.”

          “No, no, of course not,” he told them, sighing. He wished things could be happy and peaceful.

          “Mozzie and I…well, really _I_ wanted to tell you something, my Lord.”

          “Yes, you are staying here. I heard from Elijah.” He paused, but couldn’t stop himself adding, “She…er, he is in tears.”

          Neal’s face went hard. “Better a few tears now than many later. No, that wasn’t what we came to tell you.”

          “Oh! Go ahead, Neal.”

          “Um, you know the loot?”

          “From the warehouse? Mmm. I want you to go through some of it and sort out the Earthling artefacts so we can, perhaps, find their owners.”

          “Well, we did a little of that…mostly Mozzie did. He’s got all of our FBI-team’s badges, they’re flashy and he sorted them as he was packing the loot from the one safe. If Peter wants his wedding ring, he’s going to have to go through a lot of things, though. We could sort by size, I’m sure your gardeners have sieves of various meshes to remove rocks and stones from soil? Rings and ear-rings would be the smallest stuff, I think.”

          “Good idea!”

          “We collected almost all the Earth money, Lord Steel,” Mozzie took over. “We took it.”

          “We stole it,” Neal told him, plainly. “And some gold, too, mainly gold coins.”

          “How did you manage to steal it when it is guarded night and day by some of my best guards, four at any time?” Steel demanded. “And why are you telling me?”

          “He’s developed some sort of addiction to this allegiance he swore to you, Lord Steel,” Mozzie explained, disgusted. “That’s why he’s telling you.”

          “We thought you might be able to work out from the papers how many Earthlings had been taken and perhaps set up some sort of trust. Elizabeth could monitor it. Some of the Earthlings will go back to nice houses and jobs, some will go back to rubble, if the war has been anything like other wars. The government will probably not be able to help them. Oh, yes, and there were some truly exquisite rubies and emeralds, I don’t know where from…I took a few of those, for June, mainly.”

          “But I think these are all extremely fine ideas…other than possibly the gems! As we find the slaves, and send them home…if they want to go… we can give them Elizabeth’s particulars, I would have agreed to all of this! You did not have to steal it!”

          “Just asked you? What’s the fun in that?” Neal queried, puzzled.

          “My soldiers would have cut you down, it is treason…I know not why I bother!”

          “If there’s no risk, there’s no challenge, it’s no fun,” Neal elucidated, and Steel put his hands over his eyes.

          “If we end up going back to Earth ourselves, we might need the money, too. We thought it would be no use to you. For that matter, it may be no use to us! They may have used the war as an excuse to declare a New World Order Government and have a new currency, or just chips embedded in people’s hands or something horrible,” Mozzie said, pessimistically. “No-one allowed to buy or sell without the Mark of the Beast.”

          “If we can’t buy or sell, we’ll steal, it’s no problem,” Neal told him, sensibly.

          “So will you go and start sieving the treasure for the rings and things, you two? I will _give you my authority to do so!”_ Neal managed a weak grin. “There is naught else you would prefer to steal first?”

          “I don’t think so, Lord Steel,” Mozzie said, considering. “We’ll ask you if we want anything else…we’ve already had our fun!”

          Steel grinned despite himself. He took out a piece of paper, lit a candle, wrote a note to Leran and sealed it with some blue wax using his signet ring. Once it had cooled, he handed it to Mozzie, who stowed it in one of the pockets Lucilla thoughtfully provided in all the clothing she made.

 

          It was only the next day that Peter and Jones came to Steel to ask if they might look through the plunder for their badges.

          “We don’t know how many records have been destroyed, my Lord, and it would be very useful if we can find them. We don’t know if they’re there, of course, we’re just hoping. It will give us official standing.”

          “No need,” Steel said, calmly, and opened a drawer of his desk. “Here all of them are, cleaned and ready for you. And I think this may be your watch, Caleb, it is inscribed with Jones’ name. And these are the rings so far separated, you might like to ask the others to look, as well as to check yourselves.

          Soon all the Earthlings planning to return to Earth were digging through the large open boxes. Jones was overwhelmed to have the watch his mother had given him on entering the Academy, Elizabeth, June and Diana all found their rings and lockets and one earring each! Peter found his watch, too.

          Steel came in and watched them rejoicing over their finds.

          “I am glad you have these. I thought more things would be taken by greedy Slavehounds!”

          “They seemed odd to us, too, my Lord,” Diana told him. “We aren’t wonderful swordsmen, but the poorer ones would rush us, just single men, they never thought of surrendering or running away. As though they were drugged or something.”

          “Let us just be glad. Everything has turned out for the best in the end. It makes me shiver to think we might have been taken off and sold again!” Peter said.

          June, holding a locket Byron had given her and that she had thought gone forever said, sharply, “ _Not_ everything has turned out for the best, Agent Burke. Not for all of us, anyway.”

          Everyone turned and looked in shock at the normally gentle, polite woman. Her voice was hard and resentful. Peter couldn’t remember her ever calling him _Agent Burke_ , especially not as though he was a hated adversary.

          June turned to Steel and said, in her normal, golden voice, “Thank you, Lord Steel, for our things.”

          “Oh, Mistress June, you really have not to thank me. First and last, it has been mainly Neal and Mozzie’s work. Neal opened the door and the safes, they both started transporting the loot, as he calls it, and they brought first the badges and identification and then started sorting things like rings so that your work would be easier. They will bring up things other, larger things…he said the names but we have no equivalent.”

          June smiled. “I should have known. You be good to him, my Lord.”

          “I will, Mistress June. He is very special.”

          “I should perhaps warn you, Lord Steel, that Mozzie has a little compulsion when it comes to his friends. Especially Neal, his oldest and closest friend. If anyone deliberately hurts him badly, or Mozzie thinks anyone has deliberately hurt him badly, Mozzie will wreck his or her life so utterly that it is unrecognisable. I doubt you have any such intention. I just thought a warning was in order.”

          Steel’s eyebrows had climbed during this speech. “Thank you, Lady June, I have no such intention.”

          She hurried out. Steel went to his desk and back to the task of taking notes from the documents. As he found his place in the mass of paperwork he wondered humorously if Iftal ever gave refunds!

 

          Over the next few days, the Earthlings, other than Neal and Mozzie, made their peace with leaving. Peter couldn’t wait to get away. Neal was clearly happy to sever all ties, and staying was therefore pointless. He may be able to help his own planet, to do his duty.

          The one most torn was, of course, Diana. Both she and Tamlin had known that this could be short-lived, but when did love ever yield to logic? They loved and cried and cuddled and were seldom seen outside Tamlin’s rooms. But, as Peter did, she thought her duty was to Earth.

 

 

The final morning came. Mozzie came to see June off. Neal would not have come at all. He had said his good-byes and anything else would hurt. But Steel had found him the night before, cuddled in the bell-tower under a thick blanket, watching the snow sweep past on a screaming wind. Neal felt it was doing his screaming for him. He didn’t want to lose everything he had once hoped for on Earth but, apart from June’s love, it seemed to have already crumbled. He had mourned, but the agony was being extended by their continued stay.

          “Neal! Come in out of the cold!” Steel had said from the doorway passage, his hair being whipped even in its shelter.

          “I’m fine, my Lord.”

          “A suggestion or a plea that was not, Neal!”

          Neal sighed and found, struggling to free his feet from the blanket, that perhaps he had stayed out there too long. Steel had to help him to his feet and down the flights of stairs. Had Neal not been emotionally drained, he would have been able to appreciate the singularity of the event: the warmth and support of his hithertofore physically unapproachable Lord holding him close to his side and balancing him until he was set down on the armchair in front of the library fire.

          “The other Earthlings are leaving tomorrow morning.”

          “I know, my Lord. Elizabeth sent me word. It is a good thing. It has been distracting, and I have examinations looming at school quite soon.”

          “It will be trying to say good-bye to them.”

          “I already have.”

          There had been a silence. Then Steel had asked, “You are telling me that you will not be by to wish them safe passage.”

          “No. They either know I wish them well, or don’t care, my Lord.”

          “We are not the same species, Neal, but having observed you all for this time, I would suggest that would hurt them emotionally.”

          “Parting is difficult. Words seldom help.”

          Steel had stood in front of him, a tall and brooding shadow in front of the fire, which seemed, to Neal’s artistic senses, to be springing up around his feet, the reflected gleam on the wood floor bursting into flames around his calves like Hermes’ wings. The Lord’s voice broke through his musings.

          “They seldom help the situation, but the lack of them will acerbate the hurt. I want you to attend, Neal.”

          Neal had sat back and looked up at him, and if Steel had not known better, he would have thought Neal drunk. Neal never became drunk. It dulled the very senses on which he relied.

          “No, my Lord, I do not want to attend.”

          “Yet you will.”

          “No.” Neal had sounded exhausted, as well he might have been.

          “Neal, I call to your remembrance your allegiance. Are you prepared to disobey me in this and suffer the consequences of a broken oath?”

          Neal had shrugged sullenly. “I’ll be there.”

          The Lord had gone and sat on the side of the fire, where he had been seated when they had spoken once before. He had watched Neal pick up the significance and had raised an eyebrow. Neal had the grace to flush and look away, then lift his chin and say, “I’m sorry, my Lord. That was impolite.”

          “Yes, Neal. Be grateful that I am making an exception because of this difficult time.”

          Neal had climbed to his feet, made it the few steps across and thrown himself at his Lord’s feet, placing his arms on the Lord’s knee and his face down on them. “I’m sorry, my Lord. It is very hard and I will do better.”

          The Lord had looked down with enormous sympathy, touched by the responsiveness and fearlessness of the young man. He smoothed the snow-dampened hair and said, “Go to bed, Neal. This time tomorrow they will have gone.”

 

          So Neal joined Mozzie in the Greatroom, thinking back to when Steel had brought June and Peter and himself here when they were so new to Steel Keep, so exhausted, so ready to believe the worst. The Earthlings, with their bags of clothing and other things they were taking, stood around Lira looking understandably nervous. But she was smiling and Steel was confident, and it was the only way they could hope to go home, and so they would risk it.

          Tamlin, all her tears shed for the moment, was standing next to Diana. Then she moved away. Neal went and stood by her and held her hand and Tamlin, surprised, smiled at him. Then Peter detached himself from the group and came over, hating to see Neal flinch as he realised Peter was coming to _him._

          “Neal, I – I’m sorry and I wish things were different back home. I wish I’d never caught you. My greatest triumph and certainly my greatest regret! Crazy, huh? I wish you all the very best, Neal. I hope you will be very happy and successful and fulfilled in everything you do.”

          Neal blinked in surprise. “Thank you, Peter. I regret that I gave you a chance to catch me, don’t take the blame!” They smiled tremulously at each other. “And I hope you get what you want, too, whatever that is. Both you and Elizabeth. You know I love you both.”

          Elizabeth came up as Peter and Neal hugged each other tightly, and Neal tightened his hold and wished Peter had hugged him a few more times! Things might have been different. Then Elizabeth hugged and kissed him, tears on her face.

          “Love you, too, Elizabeth,” Neal told her. “Look after Peter and yourself and give Satchmo a big petting from me.”

          As they hugged closely, she whispered, “Wherever you are, you’ll always belong to us, Neal. You’re our family!”

          He smiled into her wet eyes and said, “Well, I’m all grown up and children leave the nest sooner or later!”

          Jones said, “I’ll miss you like crazy, Neal…you made the office a much brighter and more interesting place!”

          Diana just wrapped her arms around him and said, “Rather like the Lady and the Tramp…I have come to love you, Neal Caffrey, even when I’m reasonably sure you’re picking my pocket and copying my signature!” Then, in his ear, “Look after Tammy for me, hmm?”

          “Will do, Sweetie. I shall miss your acrobatics here and your brilliance everywhere. Push Peter to go to DC, he wants it and he deserves it.”

          Then June came up and she didn’t say anything. Sometimes there is no time for good-byes between conmen and those who love them, and sometimes there’s just too much. They wrapped each other in a long and desperate hug and she tore herself away and didn’t look back.

          Neal hadn’t been paying too much attention, but had noticed that every single one of the Earthlings had said good-bye to Mozzie.

 

          They gathered round Lira, and she smiled and they smiled at her. Steel came and stood right behind Mozzie, Tamlin and Neal, a hand on Tamlin and Neal’s shoulders, and still Neal was too tense to be aware of the caring touch. Lira lifted her hands above the Earthlings before her, and it felt to Neal as though he blinked and missed it: suddenly, they weren’t there.

          “Oh!” Mozzie said.

          “Incredible, Lira, thank you…they are safe?”

          “Yes, Caerrovon, they are safe at June’s house.”

          Neal felt glad June’s house was intact. He would have hated to think that home, filled with love, was wiped out. Tamlin leaned on him as Steel went over to thank Lira properly.

          “Diana told me to trust you,” Tamlin said to him. His eyebrows bounced into his hair. She smiled and said, “She told me you had lots of skills to steal and forge and fool people, and that you enjoy teasing people, but that you are loyal to a fault and would never hurt me.”

          “I will never hurt you, and if you ever, ever need anything I can provide, Tamlin, you tell me.”

          “I may come and cry on your shoulder and talk about Diana.”

          “I’d like that,” Neal told her, and gave her a hug. “Diana is one of those special people.”

          Tamlin looked down, nodded, and left hurriedly.

          Lira drifted over, watching Neal and Mozzie. She touched Neal’s hair and he smiled at her and said, “Thank you for keeping them safe and getting them home, Lira. But I think there’s something wrong with a Universe where people can be separated.”

          She looked puzzled and said, “When will you learn, children, they can’t be separated? You still love them, don’t you?”

          Neal suddenly had an irritating line from the tune _‘love will keep us together’_ float through his mind, but he smiled at her and said, “I should go and continue working.”

          He was about to bow himself out when she put up a hand and he stopped. Or was stopped. As though he was frozen. He stared with something like fear into that serene, beautiful countenance. She smiled at him and said, “Others have told you that you are wanting to find your father. That is not precisely true. You think there should be a father, someone to look after you, a mother, but really what you want is your _childhood_. You were forced to leave it too soon, to be responsible too soon, you paid the bills and found food then, and so you now often pretend to be a child. It would be better if you didn’t speak of your work, but of your passion, your love, your play. You will find yourself feeling less trapped. If you allow yourself to play and feel free, and not feel guilty when you do, that loss from your childhood will be healed.

          “Speaking of being free…!” her lovely smile turned to a grin and he was released. He stood there as she left, thinking, “Well, another theory on why I am immature and irresponsible. Perhaps I should just enjoy it…hey, I do enjoy it except when Peter…well, I guess that no longer applies!”

He went to continue his studies.

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 25

(You didn't think I'd do it, did you?)


	26. Just Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and Mozzie adjust, Neal works, they help other slaves.

 

 

 

 

Neal worked himself mercilessly. He wanted to do well, he wanted to repay Steel for believing in him and giving him these opportunities. He started a few paintings, but somehow the emotional turmoil left him unable to connect. He returned to his studies.

He also found that he wasn’t sleeping. He’d struggle to go to sleep at all, only dosing and then sleeping from sheer exhaustion. Or he’d fall asleep only to waken an hour or two later. His always over-active mind presented him with all the things he was missing out on, being away from New York: June, the café’s the museums and galleries, the bright city lights. Then he’d have to remind himself that most of the museums were outside his radius, most of the planet’s beauty and culture and fascination were outside his stupid radius!

          And of course, in the dark all alone, he was quite aware that what he missed was the chance that Peter would actually see him for who he was…would see him as an equal, a friend, Would turn to him with trust and confidence, smile at him with love in his eyes as he had on the very odd occasion in their time together. Then he’d have to remind himself that they’d had years together. And in some ways the friendship, the hope of a truly deep, loving friendship, had actually been eroded, especially in the last few months on Earth, before the abduction.

          They had been brought together by their situation here, both strangers in a strange land, but even here Peter had often relapsed into being judgemental and critical. Neal couldn’t understand it, he was sure Peter wanted to love him, but it had never happened. Well, perhaps Peter had come close to loving him, just never trusting him, because to Peter being trustworthy was the same as being law-abiding, and it would never be that to Neal. And without trust, love is a brittle bubble.

          So regretting wasting more years of his life always hoping…?! Just as well hope that Rebecca would return, sweet and completely cured of all psychoses and they’d build a house in the country and raise fluffy angora rabbits and have seven beautiful, well-adjusted children!

_Her children would be beautiful!_

Mozzie, who knew Neal and sympathised more than anyone would guess from his demeanour, tried to be there and help him with his work and talk to him of some of his plans about properly educating the children here, teaching them art, teaching them to have open, questioning minds…and it did help.

 

But not in the middle of the night.

 

For all of his conflicted emotions, Neal never seriously considered returning to Earth.

 

Over the next few fifty-days, Steel used the wealth they had taken from the Slave ship to purchase 357 Earthling slaves. He used his friends as intermediaries in most cases. The slaves were taken to the bathhouse and then brought to Steel Keep, much as June, Neal and Peter had been, but then Steel asked Neal and Mozzie to take care of them except in seventeen cases where the Earthlings had a history of violence.

          They talked to their planet-mates, Lucilla and her team made them a set of clothes, Lira healed them. It was because of this last and Neal’s outstanding ability to build rapport that most of them became calmer, though far from content in most cases, and agreed to return to Earth, all except thirty-two who had been happy in service and had no life that drew them to return. Those, Steel found homes for with his friends, or sold back in a few cases.

          It was emotionally exhausting for Mozzie and especially Neal.

          It was after they’d sent two brothers and a sister back that Neal and Mozzie found Steel and Brak in the study.

          “Come in and sit!” Steel waved his hand from deep in his favourite chair. Brak sat forward and asked, “Wine, you two? You both look weary!”

          They gratefully took the glasses and drank, sinking down on chairs.

          Neal nodded. “I thought watering cows was tiring!”

          “Lira has told me some of what you have experienced,” Steel said. “She is usually centred and calm, this is hard for her, too.”

          “I thought it would be easy,” Neal said, dispiritedly. “They would be so pleased to be here, safe, with the possibility of going home to Earth, or staying in the service of a good Lord. But most are terrified, or in despair, hurt…their hands and knees are often torn up from labour.  

“Some are so confused, hardly know who they are. Lira says some have head injuries, they improve dramatically after their healings. It is so sad!

          “These three we just sent back are typical of many: they cannot believe that Earth will be pleasant to return to in the middle of a war, if it is there at all, but are too scared of staying here and being a slave. Some are just offended at the very idea of slavery! We do our best, Lord, but they…well, I think back home we would call it post-traumatic stress disorder, too much mental and emotional horror in too short a time.”

          “If it is becoming too difficult for you both, I can ask Brak and Ophera to take over,” Steel said.

          Both Neal and Mozzie shook their heads. “No, my Lord, I think it does help that we can speak to them directly…do you know, some never had ear-bugs, had to try and guess what their overseers and Lords wanted?

          “We know Earth, we know the jokes and the culture, and when we’ve had Russians, Italians and French slaves – other countries on Earth - all of whom had never had another soul to speak to, since the Slavers hadn’t provided their language, they were bought cheap by people who just wanted muscle and didn’t care about looking after them…we could **_talk_** to them. Perhaps if I am very busy with exams Brak and Ophera could help Mozzie.”

          “Peter said you spoke many Earth languages! Who would have thought it to be useful so far from home!” Steel shook his head.

          “I can relate a little,” Neal said, leaning back and looking at the flames through his wine. “Prison was far from safe or pleasant. The spaceship was so dreadful….

                    ”You know, I still remember, I still have nightmares of watching the prospective buyers at the Slave Floors. Their faces, filled with lust, or the delight of finding another slave to buy and hurt, or the uncaring hardness of someone just wanting a machine to work until it broke, the cruelty and hatred in some faces. I was so terrified that we would be taken by such a one, or worse, the three of us would be split up and taken by three such owners!”

          “I remember you asking me to take my ceremonial honour-blade and kill you all, but June first,” Steel said, making Mozzie look up in horror. “Though you struggled with the words, your meaning, your desperation were clear.”

          “Do you know how much it meant to me when you bowed to June and came up to me and spoke to me, looked at me as though I was a human, a person, a _man?”_ Neal demanded, passionately. “With a touch of humour and a lot of compassion? We had been on that cursed slaveship for months. Without a single gentle touch or soft word except from each other, and if they caught us talking we would be at least slashed with a crop, or whipped. Eating refuse and drinking disgusting water, lying in filth. Many just died of despair, I believe.

      “Iftal got us cleaner, we had learned to be submissive as long as we were allowed to stay with June, but he was not going to put up with us for long. You saved us, and I was grateful then. I am much, much more grateful now, my Lord, having seen the long-term results of evil lordship.”

          “I saw some of that, I had less to eat, but at least I was not shackled or whipped,” Mozzie nodded. “The stench of that ship will be in my memory forever, I believe, and the dreadful noises.”

          “I cannot believe anyone…Slaver or owner…would treat their purchases worse than you, my Lord, would treat the smallest, least useful little chicken on your farm. What a waste, just a waste of money, let alone the human toll!” Neal shrugged.

          “You are doing what you can to put it right, Sir Mozzie, Neal. As am I. As you have said, Sir Mozzie, we do what we can.”

          Neal nodded. “I should go and continue with preparation and review for school, Lord.” He stood and smiled at Lord Steel. “Thank you again, from all of your slaves, especially your Earthlings!”

          Steel sat up and poured himself some more tea. “You do not have to pass, Neal. It is not a requirement. You had several disadvantages: the language and the cultural background and the fact you started the courses several fifty-days later than the others.”

          “Oh, I’ll pass, my Lord. I want to pass very well, though, for you, and for Steel Keep.”

          Mozzie and Neal left and Brak said to Steel, “Master Caerrovon, those are two interesting men!”

          “I think you just excelled in understatement, Brak!”

          “You are glad they chose to stay, are you not?”

          Steel glanced across at his man. “Yes. I miss the other Earthlings as well. Sir Mozzie is aloof, almost reclusive, other than his friendship with Neal. But Neal – Neal is very special.”

          “To you,” Brak added, impishly.

          “Yes, to me. He seems to have adopted me, and I wish I had a son like him.”

          “There is the little matter of finding a wife, Master!”

          “Oh, finding a wife, having a son, and have him grow up good and kind-hearted and still loving me!”

          “Good? Our pet Steel-Keep-criminal?”

          Steel laughed with Brak. “He swore his allegiance to me, you know, not once but twice. I never asked it of him, and the second after I had inadvertently and unfortunately shown him something of my power…. He said that since I used it not and showed it not, it proved my goodness, or some such – his words were smoother. He has never told anyone. Even Sir Mozzie. 

             “Now he does bad things, such as stealing the money from the wagon under Leran’s watch, and then tells me. Thus he has his fun, he explained, and fulfils his obligation to me!”

          “Does he realise that stealing from a Lord Keeper is a capital offense, instant death?” Brak queried.

          “He said,” Steel repeated, drily, “that if there was no risk, there was no challenge and no fun!”

          Brak and Steel looked at each other and laughed. “When he has finished his studies,” Brak asked, “how will you use him? He has such unique talents. I believe Sir Mozzie has, too.”

          “I have a feeling they will find ways of being…perhaps useful is an incorrect description!”

 

 

Mozzie spent his free time working on schemes, both practical and highly improbable for making millions on Earth, should they ever return, and here. He read and re-read the laws and customs of the nearest counties, worked out ways he and Neal could survive and thrive away from Steel Keep. Just in case. Never know. Never can be too paranoid. He enjoyed himself thoroughly, and relished the fun he would have telling Neal all his ideas.

          Neal found he hardly had _any_ free time. His schoolwork was demanding, he had somehow found himself doing a two-year course in one year. A little less than one year. His previous experience and knowledge, though from a different culture, was not completely inapplicable, however. Sometimes a painting they studied startled him: a previously undiscovered Dali? No…wrong…brush strokes…too small… light…never saw that blue in his work…um…As Mozzie had pointed out, art is emotion made visible, and these people enjoyed and suffered the same emotions.

 

          But there was also Tamlin. She didn’t take much of his time. But he worried about her, sometimes. She would come to his room, just as he had returned from showering. At first he was surprised, then laughed at himself. She was a sensitive, after all!

          The first time she’d come and they’d sat on the bed tailor-fashion, holding hands and talking about Diana as she wept silently.

          “You have no idea, Neal. So few people can share thoughts and emotions and be true, real.”

          Neal flinched. His experiences with women were the opposite of Tamlin’s with Diana. They’d walked salted-sharpened-stiletto-heeled on his heart and his trust (and other things). Uncaring sex was less than satisfactory, after real love. Not that he didn’t want to sleep with a woman, but there was no-one here that fizzed in his blood. Especially when he was so busy and tired. His past made him wary: caring made him vulnerable, made his friends vulnerable.

         He wondered if he’d ever sleep with anyone ever again, care enough. That changed abruptly when he found himself cuddling Tamlin, trying to comfort her. After that, on a relatively regular basis, she would slip in and they’d cuddle in his bed and talk a little and she’d fall asleep, feeling cared for.

          He would stay awake longer, wishing she wasn’t so completely gay, but never tempted. He made sure he dealt with that side of things ahead of time. He was sensitive enough, through his conning and his art and his sympathy with people to feel her emotions and wondered how anyone could rape someone, being able to feel their shame, revulsion, fear and pain…or perhaps that would increase a sadist’s pleasure? But Neal was no sadist, and held Diana’s precious love through the night and after a few times, her presence and trust calmed him and he found he slept better when she was there.

 

Steel was finding few Earthlings by the time the exams started.

 

          The only one who understood the Caffrey ability to focus was Mozzie, who’d seen him, when he had to, complete a whole medium-sized canvas, a perfect replica, in less time than it took most people to repaint a small room. Neal normally was open full-aperture, but when he irissed down and focussed, his brain was like magnified sunlight on paper.

          Neal didn’t talk, didn’t communicate. Mozzie would bring him food and shove it at him and he’d eat just to get him out of his way, but at least he’d eat. Mozzie would sit quietly while he studied, then shove him off to shower, and because of their many years, Neal didn’t even snap at him. He’d sleep as one dead, knowing Mozzie would wake him in time and feed him and hold clothes out to him and shove him out the door in plenty of time to get to school.

          The day came when the exams were done and Neal staggered back and fell into bed and Mozzie covered him with some blankets and made sure that when he woke there was food waiting for him. Neal didn’t thank him, not really. He smiled at him and it was a promise that they’d do it all again, perhaps this time with a forgery Mozzie could sell!

          Mozzie went back to his projects and Neal told Steel he felt that he’d done pretty well, and that he was going to work now.

          First, he caught up on three paintings he owed Steel. He smiled as he finished the third, feeling a little guilty that he’d painted abstracts when Peter was there when he really enjoyed something like this…the blurred movement of two warriors, the only thing still and clear on the whole canvas the focal point of their straining blades: a murderous steel kiss.

          Then, somewhat to the Lord’s surprise, he took over certain of the household chores. He cooked and helped in the kitchen now and then, he cleaned the ovens and fireplaces and set the fires, he helped Lucilla with designs and even embroidered a little. He worked hard at his swordsmanship, just in case. He exercised two horses regularly, and mucked out their stalls. He was cheerful and calm and not at all the restless man he’d been when he first came. .......Was he just exhausted and worn out, still?

          Mozzie didn’t feel it, but Neal missed the other Earthlings more than he ever could have expected. Not just for their characters, but for their culture. He loved many of the people in Steel Keep. He loved Lord Steel with an admiration and respect he’d never felt for anyone, though his love for Mozzie was not totally dissimilar.

          He loved the children and Brak and Ophera and especially dear Tamlin. And Lira, whom he practically stalked whenever she visited, trying to get inside her heart and soul. She smiled and even hugged him at times, which astounded Lord Steel. Neal noticed and teased him, “But Lord, most people love innocent little children!”

          But the little references to past events, historical happenings, political intrigues, old, old jokes….Mozzie didn’t indulge much, and none of these people, though dear and good, could bounce back an old tag-line, dance the Charleston or sing a classic song with him. Mozzie never seemed lonely, but Neal often was.

          Not that he ever told anyone. His choice had been the right one. Jones had said long ago that every time you made a choice it meant giving up something. Neal had argued that ‘we can have it all’, and now he couldn’t even tell Jones that he was right all along!

 

 

 

End of Chapter 26

Short and I believe penultimate chapter, unless I add the short stories as chapters. Thank you all, whether you liked it or not, for reading and giving input!

 


	27. All this...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life at the Keep has a few more surprises for Neal, Mozzie - and Steel...

 

 

 

It was twilight and Neal was feeling deeply at peace.

          Since he was a slave, Lord Steel had been given his exam results. Neal and Mozzie had been called into Steel’s study and the Lord was enough an actor to actually frighten Neal into thinking he was in trouble for something that he was supposed to remember. The Lord had eventually stood up, kicking his chair back and advanced upon Neal, frowning darkly. He’d grabbed Neal’s wrist and pulled him up and, cognisant of his oath, Neal had closed his eyes and gone limp and passive, and even when Steel had hugged him he hadn’t registered for a few seconds.

          Then he had pulled away and opened his mouth to raise loud objections to being nastily teased, but Steel had handed him the sheet of his results. He had gazed, taken aback, and had seen that Mozzie was grinning with unusual abandon, obviously in the know! Steel, now impatient for him to understand, had said,

          “You achieved the highest marks and an Honours Commendation…the highest award they can give, Neal! I am so proud of you!”

          Neal had backed up, feeling even more boneless, and fallen into the chair, trying to understand. Steel had gone and carefully picked up the accompanying certificate by the edges and brought it over, holding the embossed card so that Neal could see his name, in calligraphy almost as good as his own, emblazoned there.

               There was no false modesty in Neal, he’d known he’d passed, known he’d done well…but this exceeded his expectations. He had glanced across at Mozzie, who had nodded smugly, silently taking just a little credit for his help and his tutelage through the years. Then he had looked up at Steel standing there beaming, and his brilliant smile, guileless, full of happiness, had lightened his face and the room.

          Steel had taken the certificate back and nested it into the strong packaging. Then he had walked back and extended his arms. “I could not be prouder of you, you must have worked so hard!”

          Without thought, Neal had leapt up and hugged Steel hard, laughing, felt the alien laughing against his cheek. Then he had as suddenly tried to pull away, aghast as his temerity, but Lord Steel held him and embraced him. “If you were my son, I could not be more pleased, Neal!”

          Neal had not felt that level of acceptance ever, though a few times Peter had whole-heartedly praised him and Mozzie had rejoiced with him, and those had come close.

 

          So now Neal was happily engaged in one of his favourite pastimes. He found he liked cleaning out fireplaces, setting the kindling and wood just right and creating a warming fire. He did the ovens, too, but with less delight!

          He was just sitting back, looking at the prepared wood in one of his favourite rooms, the library, about to light it, when he was aware of a movement in the dark room. He looked again and stood, slowly, gracefully, all his senses going on high alert. And then he heard that laugh. He couldn’t ever forget that laugh.

 

 _“Peter!”_  He gasped, shocked.

 

          “I finally managed to surprise you, Neal!” Peter said, striding towards him. For just a second, Neal wondered if he was hallucinating, and then he was wrapped in a bear-hug too rough and _Peter_ to be anything but real. He could smell some Earth aftershave and just the Petery-ness of him.

          “But…but you’re on _Earth!_ ” Neal said, when he had the use of his lungs back.

          “Well, that’s not true! And you look like hell!”

          “I’ve been very busy. And you’re wearing that same awful suit!”

          “I dug it out of retirement. I keep it for special occasions when just a lucky tie won’t do!”

          Neal was completely speechless. Peter drew him to the nearest couch and sat down, pulling Neal down with him. “There’s lots you should know. Lots. I hardly know where to start. Probably should tell Moz, too, but I’d rather this was just us.”

          “Are you dead?” Neal asked, sensibly enough, he thought. After all, ghosts could move anywhere, and if any dead person would come after him through time and space, wearing his god-awful catch-Neal suit (which should be dead and buried if it wasn’t), it was Peter!

          “Ghosts don’t hug, do they?”

........“Not sure I’ve ever met one, don’t know!”

          “Look, you have to tell Mozzie, things have changed. Lots of things were destroyed. Computers, satellites, in some ways Earth has gone back a hundred years! In some ways far more! Lots of people killed, lots of industry lost. But – ”

          “How did you get here?” Neal demanded, not listening to Peter’s recital.

          Peter shrugged. “My clever wife. She’s really smart, Neal! Smarter than both of us put together!”

          “And she would probably say it wasn’t hard…but how…?”

          “When I realised a few things, how things had changed and that you needed to know some of them, I just started yelling for Lira to bring me back here for a little while! Every time I had an hour or two I spent the first ten minutes yelling…sometimes aloud. Heaven knows what the neighbours would have thought, but I was pretty desperate…anyway, today I was suddenly here, just like when we were suddenly there. Looking at you doing something as domestic as setting a fire!”

          Neal sat still and silent, thinking, then said, “But you were going home, like ants.”

          Peter’s face registered the befuddlement Mozzie usually brought on! Neal waved his hand impatiently, “Territoriality…ants will hesitate to cross a narrow straw bridge going away from their nest, but will confidently cross it carrying a large seed going home.”

          “I don’t see…”

          “You were going home. You didn’t love this place. Lira said all that about love, making us in the here and now…”   Neal looked up and saw Peter’s warm, dark eyes on him and suddenly flushed.

          “I told you I loved you. El loves you. You just don’t hear me, and yes, my behaviour was such at times that I’m not surprised you had doubts, Neal. We’ve been… _I’ve_ been missing you like crazy. Even missed Mozzie!”

          “Missed by a Suit! Wait till I tell him, he’ll be _ever_ so thrilled!” Neal exclaimed fatuously, clasping his hands together by his chin, and Peter punched his shoulder, grinning.

          “Wow, I’ve missed you!” he said.

          “How’s everyone? June?”

          “Everyone’s trying to get back to something resembling normalcy, but we’re healthy and you’d be surprised how much we rely on each other. We’re much closer than before we were taken…except El and I, of course, we always were. Probably the result of the aftermath of the war, also. Not having you, and even Moz there is like missing a tooth, you know how you keep feeling at it?”

          “So there’s no emergency?”

          “N..no.” Peter was abruptly uncertain. Neal hadn’t said he had missed anyone. He swallowed. “Should I not have come?”

          Neal shook his head. “No, no, I don’t mean…I’ve missed you, too! All of you, but of course you most! You and June. She was so good to me and we were partners!”

          Peter cheered up, his smile wide and happy. “I was trying to tell you, lots of things have changed. Oh, I have a letter from June for you, and a letter from Diana for Tamlin. Here!” He handed them over. “I don’t know how long I’ve got, when Lira will send me back…it took ages to get me here, don’t really know how times gibe between there and here. They didn’t think I’d get here, but here I am! El said, ‘ _Just have faith! Love always gets what it wants – it got you Neal the first time!’_ “

          He realised what he’d said, and both of them shifted a bit, uncomfortable.

          Neal grinned at him. “Two women would have no problem having exactly this conversation! We really need to get men’s rights tabled, too! Including better suits, Peter!”

          “Forget the damned suit! Why can’t you ever get over the suit? I’m surprised you haven’t asked why I didn’t bring your fedora!” Neal opened his eyes accusingly at him and Peter groaned. “It wouldn’t have gone with the suits here, or any of the clothes here.”

          “How would you know that?” Neal challenged.

          “El told me to tell you that if you asked,” Peter admitted, shame-faced, and Neal burst out laughing.

          “Okay, so tell me what’s happened on Earth!”

          “I was trying to! There’re a lot of changes! Try to imagine it…no computers working at present. No cell phones, satellites, digital anything, fancy electronic anything.

          “Many of the bright young things in research are gone. Thank goodness we never did away with actual libraries! They’ve been a Godsend! Much of the industry is crippled…well, in the USA, anyway, we don’t get that much news from anywhere else, everything is going snail-mail and some sort of radio and Morse code! Do you know how few folks remember Morse?”

          “Moz and I know it.”

          “And that helps Earth how?” Neal shrugged and Peter continued. “Lots of people killed, lots of areas destroyed. Our house is gone. Whole neighbourhood!”

          “Oh, Peter, you and El…!”

          “Yeah, we don’t know what happened to the people, all our neighbours, perhaps they were in the subways, we have no idea…we’ve lost all our photographs and everything, really. But we’re the lucky ones…it’s worked out okay, the house next-but-one to June’s was empty, the old couple there…old friends of Byron’s father or partner or something, they died while we were away – shock, probably! All the medical is pretty basic, Mozzie would love it! – so she installed us there, and Diana in one of her suites. Jones is living with his Mom at present.”

          **_“Wait!”_** Neal suddenly stopped him, suspicious. “If your neighbourhood is gone, then your house is gone, your closet is gone, your _suit_ is gone!”

          Peter grinned. “My luck! I’d left it at your place after we got all wet and muddy in that take-down? - and it had actually been to the cleaners and picked up before the war started, but not been given back to me! This and this tie! Sometimes prayers are answered!”

          “But why yours and not mine?”

          “Hmmm…I’m good?”

          “Bastard!” Neal grinned.

          “Anyway, a lot of people are pretty shaky, but a great many are stepping up and starting to rebuild. It’s amazing how resilient we are, us of the Earthling spirit that irritated Steel so much that time! Many of the government people, lawyers, military they were some of the first ones either killed or taken.”

          “Wow!” Neal commented. “Mozzie would think that an improvement, no lawyers!”

          “Oh, yeah, he would! There is a new government, really of the people, I don’t think there’s a lawyer in there! – they’re trying to rebuild things, too. Just scrapped a lot of Acts and Statutes, went back to the Constitution, Articles and Amendments and Common Law…so much was either inapplicable or unenforceable.”

          “So the FBI?”

          “At the moment, we have our badges…people were very pleased to see those…no forgeries on Earth at present, very few, all the criminals need to find the old school ways again! – we’re sort of sheriffs, at present, with an FBI badge! Very local!”

          Neal tapped at Peter’s jacket lapel. “Didn’t feel a holster!”

          “Just didn’t think it fair to bring it here. Left it with El…and June has hidey holes and you wouldn’t believe. Well, maybe you would!”

          “I always thought it was ‘have _gun_ will travel’.”

          “Yeah, just had to travel, see you. I think you and Mozzie would be happier on this new Earth. For one thing, there is no record of your criminal record that we’ve been able to find. No computers. I mean, they are _done!_   And there is so much destruction, papers all missing, burnt, incomplete would be an understatement! The techies are rebuilding stuff, but again, they just want to rebuild with none of the flaws that were perpetuating in the old models. And of course, they can’t decide which way is the best!

          “I don’t know enough, but basically it doesn’t look as though anyone is ever going to uncover any old records, because of the new technologies. Maybe they’ll try to find who murderers were, but it’s sort of a low priority when most are probably dead or taken away… I think it’s just a general amnesty…start again, clean slate.

          “We thought that might make you feel differently. The same philosophy is infecting a lot of people, a lot of industry, a lot of things. We don’t really need to rebuild cell-phones, that’s far from a priority for most of us! – we need efficient water-purification and electricity and heat and homes for everyone left! Enough food. If we have the chance to build it from scratch, let’s do it better this time. Things like…well, you know how the tax code had gotten totally out of hand? Tens of thousands of pages, not even the tax lawyers understood it all…

          “…look who I’m talking to! Of course you don’t! Well, it was. They want to make it fair and just and simple. How can people obey laws they don’t understand? It’ll probably get corrupted, but maybe there’ll be more oversight this time.”

          “That sounds hopeful,” Neal said, hesitantly.

          “It is.”

          “So no planes?”

          “Oh, yes, planes. But not for jaunting around here there and everywhere. Just for emergencies, and – well, imagine planes, boats, everything pre-computers. That’s where we are at present. The planet has become a smaller place in the true sense of the word…most of us are not going to be travelling far much.”

          “And you decided to come across the universe to see me?”

          “Well, we’re only travelling for important things.”

          Neal smiled his genuine, gentle, sweet smile, and Peter’s smile softened, too. “We’d all really like you back, Neal. You and Mozzie…you have expertise and – and – I don’t know what the word is! Suss! You can do stuff, think laterally, make a hovercraft out of a tea-tray and a bicycle-pump…as long as you need it to go steal a diamond!”

          Neal laughed again. Then he sobered. “What the people there need is something like they have here…the gas generators in every building, taking waste and making fuel, the lights, the matches, the green technologies. Especially if there are fewer people on Earth, that should be easy to implement.”

          “There’s something else. Perhaps not full time just yet, but several of the museums and galleries and things lost a lot of artwork. I mean, if you didn’t need to get paid, you could work round the clock forever! The one reason was a group of humans blew up a slave ship…shot a missile of some sort at it, it was over the city…New York, I mean.                                   ..........................“It blew up, sent pieces in all directions. So the Met is standing…the glass is gone, glass is in short supply generally, just plain old windows – but they’ve lost many key pieces. Fire took a lot of things…I don’t have all the details, there’s so much. There was a fire at MoMA, don’t know how it started, not everything, but bad enough. Firefighters busy in a dozen other places. Alarms and everything electronic failed!”

          Neal’s eyes darkened. “And they don’t even have the virtual tours and digital stills, anything!”

          “Nope. There are prints, of course, though it’s hard to find one of each lost piece when people’s homes and jobs and everything is changed or destroyed. There are some old photographs, but many of them were tossed when digital stuff came along, and some are just faded, some are black and whites…since you’ve sent us fewer Steel refugees, El has been working with restorers and all sorts of experts running around trying to fix it.                                        .................“I mean, New York was world renown for our museums, our collections. The New Yorkers are angry, they want to get it back…even people who didn’t ever visit the museums, wouldn’t know a .. a…Monet from a …whatever! Don’t laugh at me! It’s as though the city lost part of her soul!

          “El came home with some arty high-brow high-up, there on behalf of the whole Board of the Met – which is - or was - hundreds of people, apparently!” Neal nodded, aware of how things had been, “ - because she said we might be able to contact a man who did replicas of all sorts of paintings for the FBI in the past.                                                                                        ......................“They want to hire you…if we can contact you, and of course, if you want to come. A lot of important originals are gone…some bits of them are left, here and there. Some are nearly whole, and their restorers are working on those. They want to replace the lost ones with good replicas because otherwise the whole landscape of art is damaged. El tried to tell me what to say, but you can probably guess.”

          “You’re doing a pretty good job, actually.” Neal sat, feeling horrible.

          “El said you’d know…” Peter pulled out a faded pink post-it note from his pocket and read, “ _Les Demoiselles d'Avignon_ by Pablo Picasso – even I know that must be expensive…important, I mean – ”

          It took Neal just a second to understand Peter’s French, then he blanched.

          “That’s **_gone?_   **It’s a watershed work - for him, changed modern art - …give me that!” he took the paper and read, rapid-fire: “ ‘ _Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair_ by Kahlo; _The Houses of Parliament_ by Monet’ ; _Two Young Girls at the Piano_ by Renoir; _Young Woman with a Water Pitcher_ by Vermeer…

          “Peter, this is…this like all the fountains in Rome, the Eiffel Tower, Westminster Abbey, the Statue of Liberty,..oh, God, is _she…?”_

          “Yeah, bit battered, but still there. The Pentagon is…gone, that is, mostly. And the Washington Monument, as well. White House badly damaged. And lots of rubble everywhere, we have to clean up before we rebuild.

          “And stupid, really, the people are the most important. Anything else can be rebuilt. And these,” he flicked the post-it note, “are just the proverbial tip of the ice-berg. And you could paint them. I know you could! In fact, knowing you, you probably already have painted them!”

          “Yeah!” Neal managed to grin. “Hey, all I’d be doing is replacing my own forgeries…!”

          “Legally!”

          “Don’t take all the fun out of it!”

          They grinned at each other.

          “You’d consider it?” Peter’s voice sounded almost desperate, hungry.

          Neal looked down, the energy changed. “I have a life here, now, Peter. I – I like it here.”

          “But you are probably the only guy…well, they only guy who we could find. On this side - our side - of the pond. There’s a reformed forger, multi-skilled guy in the UK, but they’ve got their own problems, he’s going to be very busy for decades, and he’s not all that young!”

          “I have to think about it. You’re talking about **_forever_.”**

          “Well, there’s work for you for your lifetime, I think, if that’s what you mean.”

          “And I have things _here._ People here, work here. _”_

          There was an uncomfortable silence.

          “I – I’m sorry I came, Neal. I didn’t mean to open the whole thing up again. It’s just – all the reasons you gave for staying, they’re all gone. I mean, I think you should perhaps change your name, just to be safe, there may be some old policemen or agents that remember the great Neal Caffrey. But – ” Peter looked down, swallowed. “Sorry. I’m not pushing. I understand if you want to stay. Steel’s a good man. He has power to protect you, money to send you to Varsity and buy you the best art supplies, all sorts of things that are really important to you.”

          “Yeah. That’s nice. As long as I stay here I really don’t have to worry. It’s the first time I ever remember that. I might get bored with it!”

          “Yes. I see. Look, I don’t know how long I’m here for.” Peter suddenly couldn’t imagine just sitting looking at Neal, trying not to beg. “I – I’d like to see Klenalth and Leran and Brak and Ophera – and Steel, Tamlin, before I go. If there’s time. And Mozzie, of course. I probably won’t be coming back here. There’s so much work at home, and Lira won’t like it if I take advantage of her good nature.”

          They hurried off, first to Neal’s room, where he kept all the Earthlings’ ear-bugs, though he wasn’t sure why he had, it just seemed sentimental – but now it was useful. He flicked through them with his finger-tip till he found Peter’s. Once Peter had placed it carefully in his ear, they strode off through the Keep. Everyone was shocked and thrilled to see Peter, hugging him and asking scores of questions all at once. It was odd to Neal to see him in an Earthling suit. It looked **_so_** out-of-place, he looked so out-of-place, and the damned suit was truly awful!

          “Everyone is fine!” he said, which is what they really wanted to know. “Lira did this favour for me, I wanted to tell Neal something. She isn’t here, is she?”

          But Lira wasn’t at Steel Keep, the others told him, though she had been earlier. “She heard me and brought me, sent me here, how fantastic she is!”

          Peter petted the horses, taking time with his favourites, talking to the rather taciturn Klenalth. Steel found them there.

          “Peter!” he exclaimed. “Brak got Tamlin to call me! He said Lira got you back! That’s incredible!”

          Neal noticed the two men sizing each other up…well, Steel was still much taller, but this was the first time Peter hadn’t felt at a social disadvantage, since he was completely unaware of the atrocious suit. The power-balance between them had shifted just a little. Peter grinned up at the Lord and said, “My lord Steel! I’m so glad you were here when I came! I was told by everyone back there to say thank you, for everything! Really, most heartfelt thanks!”

          “Not really _your_ Lord Steel anymore, Peter!” Steel smiled back, his eyes wary. “Our second free Earthling, after Sir Mozzie!”

          “I never repaid you my purchase price,” Peter reminded him.

          “I think all that wealth captured from the slavers, and the many original Neal Caffrey’s have more than done that! Everyone is well? Elizabeth has been coping with all the Earthlings we’ve sent her?”

          “Everyone’s healthy, we’re coping and rebuilding. Elizabeth sorted out a whole system, like a refugee-centre, found resources and did amazing things…but some of them will find it very hard. We had your money – well, the money the Slavers had taken, thank you for giving it to us – and we’re getting everyone as much help as we can.”

          “So why are you here? I would imagine it is something very important, you were anxious to leave.”

          A sudden tense silence fell. Peter took a step back. Steel’s face hardened. Neal moved a half-step towards Steel. Peter had been reading people for a long time, and it seemed a fist had wrapped itself around his heart, and squeezed.

          “I came to tell Neal and Mozzie that things have changed and it they ever want to come back, they could…no record for Neal, no Feds or Interpol looking over his shoulder, good and satisfying work for as long as he wants it. But he’s happy here.

          “I’m very grateful, Lord Steel. June will be, too, when I tell her…” he swallowed a lump in his throat. He wished they’d never told June he was going to try and come back to see Neal. When he didn’t return with him- ! Maybe he could lie and say he’d never made it back here…?

          Steel looked down at Neal’s dark head. Neal was looking at the floor, wishing Life would just stop trying to tear his heart in two… Kate and Peter, Mozzie and Peter, James and Peter, Steel and June. Mozzie was right not to get involved, well, except with him. His heart always had a place for Mozzie.

          “Why don’t we go and have some wine and find Sir Mozzie?” Steel suggested.

          “Provide the wine, I’m sure Mozzie will find us,” Peter joked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

 

They went via the corridor and large landing that were now filled with Neal’s works. Anyone glancing at them would never think they’d all been done by the same man, though as Neal had become more confident, his own unique style was becoming clearer. Peter took his time looking at each one, the newer ones more to his taste than some, as Neal had known they would be, and then he turned and said,

          “You’re right, Neal. If this opportunity back home had come up five years ago…two years ago… it would have been perfect for you. I would have insisted! But now you need to do your own stuff. I’m no art critic, but even I can tell these are magnificent.”

          “I’m happier with them,” Neal nodded, subdued.

          “He also completed his studies with the best marks, highest award possible,” Steel told Peter. “It has seldom been given out…once before, I believe, in the history of the school. He made us all very proud.”

          “Me, too, Neal!” Peter said.

          They sat on the benches there, and Tamlin and Pila, smiling, brought them trays with snacks and wine and tea and ale. Tamlin said, “Thank you, so much, Peter! I will try and write a reply to Diana before you leave, and bring it to you, but if I manage not… tell her I love her and always will, and to be happy and find someone special. And that Neal has been a fantastic friend these last several fifty-days.”

          “I will, Tamlin,” Peter said, taking the one tray. “She has been very busy, the planet is a mess after the war, we try and give her very little time to grieve, but I’m sure she does.”

The girls left.

          “It surprises me, you almost always drink tea,” Peter remarked, taking the pitcher of ale and pouring himself a glass.

          “I like it,” Steel shrugged. “My father always drank wine, we have a fantastic cellar if these two have not plundered it completely, but though I was forced to drink wine at every meal, I always preferred tea. And now I am lord of my own Keep, and can drink what I wish to drink! Of course, at banquets and parties I pretend, and I can tell a bad wine from good, but…”

          “My two handlers: one can’t dress to save his wife’s reputation, the other prefers tea to wine! What did I do in my past lives to deserve this?”

          His ‘two handlers’ looked at each other and laughed, and Neal hurriedly added, “Allegedly!” and they all laughed some more.

          “Suit! In his suit!” Mozzie exclaimed, arriving on the scene.

          “Told you, as soon as the wine has breathed…here’s Mozzie!” Peter grinned.

          “Tell Mozzie about Earth, Peter, I will just go and read her letter and write a reply to June,” Neal said and Peter watched him go with his heart in his eyes. Lira may send him back at any moment, he might never see Neal again…he swallowed yet again. He had such hope when he made it here, and now just being here was torture.

          He told Mozzie, and Mozzie asked different questions, about the Law and Justice systems, banking, the media and agriculture and industry, details about how society was working. Steel excused himself, since this really wasn’t of much interest to him.

          “If I disappear before I see you again, which might happen, thank you, Lord Steel. You made our time here like a sort of working vacation, and seeing those other slaves you sent us, I cannot tell you how grateful we all are that you found us, or we found you!” Peter said, standing up and putting out his hand.   Steel, knowing that Peter wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, took it and shook it, patted his shoulder and left.

          Mozzie and Peter watched Steel walk down the corridor. “He’s a really good man,” Peter remarked.

          “He’s been fantastic with Neal,” Mozzie nodded. Then, “Neal wants to stay here?”

          Peter looked down, feeling very old. “Yes. I can understand. Look at what he’s accomplishing!” He waved his hand at Neal’s own gallery without looking up.

          Tamlin and another young slave Peter didn’t know appeared. Tamlin gave him a letter, smiled but said nothing. They collected the trays and left.

          There was a long, sorrowful silence. Eventually Peter looked up and shrugged. “I know you want to say a million things insulting the way I handled Neal all those years. That it’s all my fault he’d rather be away from me.”

          “Guess you did the best you could, Suit, but I think his loyalty is with Steel now.”

          “Not me, not you.”

          “Oh, if I asked him to come back to Earth with me, he would. Or if I asked him to get Lira to jump us onto another totally unknown and unexplored planet entirely, just for fun, he would. But he seems to like to have someone to lean on, emotionally, and me in the background as the helpful friend.”

          “I should never have caught him.”

          “On that, we entirely agree!”

          “But then, Mozzie, I would never have really known him – or you!”

          “You don’t need to add that. I hardly think we’ve added much to each other’s lives.”

          “I took you for granted. To some extent, I took Neal for granted. You helped us a huge amount. And anyone would be blessed to have as good a friend as you are to Neal. Thank you, Mozzie.”

          Peter sighed.

          Mozzie was sitting still and silent, and Peter thought he’d rather just leave, but was being polite to Peter for Neal’s sake. He looked hard at Mozzie and Mozzie’s eyes, gazing into the distance, were sad.

          “You’d rather come back to Earth?” Peter asked, suddenly.

          Mozzie shook himself and said, “Don’t assume things, Suit.”

          Peter made a face. “I won’t tell Neal. I shouldn’t have come, but I needed you both to know…and if things get bad here for any reason, Lira can send you home – to Earth, I mean.”

          “Yes, Suit! It’s always good to know our options, isn’t it?”

          Neal came down the corridor with his usual long-legged stride. He handed Peter a letter. “That was hard to do. Impossible, really. Do you know, she’s made the apartment over to me, back on Earth, if I ever come back? She said I was her real family, like a son to her and Byron!” He blinked at suspicious glitters in his eyes.

          “Mmm. She was muttering about it…all her family has fled the city, and don’t want to be there for a while, even though she’s back. And of course the big cities were the worst hit!”

          “So – so what do we do now?” Neal asked, sitting down next to Peter.

          “I guess I should just call Lira and ask her to send me back. There’s lots of work to do.”

          “I should go and see about helping with dinner,” Mozzie said, and stood. Peter stood up and hesitated, then hugged Mozzie.

          “We miss you, Mozzie. Hard to say good-bye forever. But thank you, and have a wonderful life.”

          “I’ve never tried to do anything less, Suit…Peter. Take my love to Elizabeth and June, won’t you?” He turned and left.

          Peter blinked. “He just called me ‘Peter’.”

          “That’s what saying good-bye forever will get you, with Moz. Remember it!” Neal said, struggling not to sound disconsolate.

          “As if I could ever forget!”

          “And us? I _have_ missed you, Peter…especially the old Peter, how we were, when it was copycat Caffrey and that time Elizabeth found some robbers in your neighbourhood, and jumping out of a window nearly at your feet! You looked so surprised and – proud! I thought you looked proud. Probably wishful thinking.”

          “No. What we had was unique. I _was_ proud, and when you were hiding out from the FBI – et al! – in my _kitchen…!_ Playing with your silly hat!"

          Neal was smiling. “Yeah. Just got to remember those days.”

          “If things get bad here, for whatever reason, come home…well, come to Earth, if you can get Lira to send you. Anytime, Neal. Ever.” Peter took Neal’s hand, felt the palm, turned it over, smiled to see the paint lodged in the cuticles. Set about prying it out with his thumb-nail. Neal watched their hands, looked at Peter’s dark head.

          Peter went on, “Steel’s a good man. Not that you need a handler, a Keeper …well, I’ve always thought you needed a keeper, actually!”

          They laughed again. Then Peter looked Neal in the eye and said, “Don’t trust Steel too much. I know he’s good, but he is an alien. Trust Mozzie, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

          “Yeah,” Neal raised his eyebrows a little. “That’s what Steel said, actually. And Mozzie’s already told me he should have shot you before he let you catch me.”

          Peter made a face. “From your and his perspective, he should have. Better if he’d just called in a tip for one of FBI’s most wanted in Seattle or something, when you were in Florida, asked for me personally.”

          “Next life-time, Burke!”

          “I should call Lira. This is worse than saying good-bye at a train station.”

          Neal swallowed. “You have to go?”

          “Yeah. Work, rebuild the planet, little things like that.”

          “Yeah. I see.”

          They both stood and fell into a hug that threatened to cut off circulation. Eventually, Neal said, “I love you, too, Peter. And El, June, Diana and Jones…I miss you all. I wish it could be different, I wish we could all be together. I would have been quite happy for us all to stay here, but that was just selfish. Tell them, and remember? Remember when we were younger and carefree and - and things were still fun. That's what I miss the most, being those people.”

          “I will.”

          They parted, reluctantly. Peter looked up (for some reason) and called, “Lira! Lira, you can send me back, now. I should go back now. Just one ticket, first class, for Earth, please?”

          Nothing.

          “Lira! Lira! Please! _Please!”_ Peter was feeling as though he had no more breath. He couldn’t just stand here, eternally leaving his best friend.

          “Um,” Neal said, hesitantly, “perhaps us being together…our emotions may be causing confusion. I know you must get back, but I wish you weren’t going…that’s probably part of the problem. Let’s just say good-bye and I’ll leave you and then you can just want to get back to Elizabeth and Earth.”

          Peter frowned. “I don’t want you to leave me, or me you.... But I guess that’s just silly. The decisions are made. You may be right. Let’s just get it over with. I love you, Neal. I hope we’ll see each other again some day. God bless and be happy!”

          They hugged again, broke apart and Neal just smiled a huge, loving smile, turned and left. Peter watched him walk away and he sat heavily, then said, softly, miserably, “Lira?”

 

          Neal went back towards his suite. He wished he could just go to bed, curl up in a ball, bury his head in his soft blankets and try to go to sleep and awake in a year’s time, since he was all grown up and too big to cry! Thinking about being with Peter, especially right a first, they had been so good together! Later, their differences and people like James-damned-Bennett had caused a rift, but at first....But he still needed to go and light the fires…the Keep was shrouded in winter’s coldest weather and people wanted warmth and comfort…that was his job. He went and lit the library fire and walked down towards the Greatroom.

          “This just shouldn’t happen!” he said, out loud, not taking in his surroundings.

          “What, Neal?” Steel asked. Neal looked up and there were Steel and Lira.

          “My Lord! Lira…you have sent Peter back?” he slipped back into Sheel, and tried not to sound too desolated about it: she had been very kind to bring him in the first place, and it was nice to know that everyone there was happy and healthy and that they could return, if she would send them, if he and Moz weren’t happy here.

          “No, Neal. Not yet. I came to see your Lord Steel, as is my custom, before doing aught else.”

          Neal smiled sadly. “Yet you landed Peter right with me! He would care not for protocol, indeed! Well, alien protocol!”

          “You are sad, Neal,” Steel said. “I am very glad you stayed, I would have missed you badly, yet unhappy that you should have Peter leave again.”

          “Yes, my Lord.” Neal looked down.

          “But you are under a misapprehension, Neal,” Lira said, her voice light and gentle. “I did not bring your Peter here.”

          Steel and Neal turned to her in confusion.

          “But – but – then who did?” asked Neal, humbly.

          Steel queried, “One of your brethren, Lira? Would they have heard and helped Peter?”

          “Your species – yes, both of you! – always make things so complicated. Then they become complicated. Peter loves Neal. Peter wants to be with Neal. Peter is with Neal. Could it be more simple?”

          Neal and his Lord looked at each other while she continued to twinkle in delight at their total lack of understanding.

          “But – but Peter knows not how to warp space or whatever the process is!” Neal said, trying not to sound argumentative. “He certainly could not, Lira. He simply called you and asked you to bring him here. Then he was here. Now _that_ is simple. You understand what you are doing. Now he called you to send him home.”

          “I heard him calling me, I came here. But no. I have no idea how it works. Love knows how it works, Neal,” Lira told him, a little admonishing now. “I am not at all sure we _can_ know how it works.”

          “But – but – if that was Peter, he could have landed up in the middle of the sea, or in a solid rock! And – and he …he landed in the room I was in!” Neal seemed to think this proved something, and Lira repeated that.

          “You seem to think that means something, and it does. Peter wanted to be with you, Neal, then he was with you, Neal. Love would not put him in a rock away from you!”

          The others looked at each other again, hoping some insight would come to them. Neal said, cautiously, disbelievingly, “Then Peter could come and see me whenever he chose?”

          Lira smiled. “Yes. He loves you, he wants to be with you…he is then with you.”

          “B-but then – we need not be apart at all!”

          “I keep telling you this.” Lira raised her hands gracefully.

          “But I thought it was _you_ , Lira,” Steel said. “That it was the Chiri that could warp space and time.”

          Lira smiled at him as Neal would have at Junoel. “The Chiri have no monopoly on love, Caerrovon, though from what I hear from you we do believe in her more strongly. We believe in the power of her, the abilities of her, the willing cooperation of her with us.”

          “You mean…then we can…I can go back to Earth and come back here, work there and – sorry, sorry, play there and play here and not miss anyone, ever?” Neal asked, pleadingly, his eyes huge.

          “If you have someone you love there, or you love the place, and you have someone here, then yes. It arranges itself.”

          Neal exclaimed. “ _Wait!_ I loved Kate, before…long ago, it seems, now. I wanted to be with her so badly I escaped from prison and was sentenced to four more years of incarceration, I tied myself to the FBI…why was I not just with her, if it is love that...facilitates this translating from one place to another place?”

          Lira looked at Neal, took his hands. “Did you fear you would never see her again?”

          Neal looked down. “I tried to never think I would fail to see her again. I tried so hard…Mozzie tried…I would have done anything. Yes, of course, sometimes I found myself dreading that I would never find her, or find her in time…”

          “That is one obstacle. Fear and love are opposites. They cannot exist together. And if you are trying to work at anything, struggle with it, it makes it harder. I do know that no species has ever done these miracles, as you would call them, by struggling. It is by allowing, resting, believing, having faith, you would call it. Having intention, yes, but resting and allowing it to happen, trusting love with powerful intention.

          “Also, Peter knew I helped them get back to Earth. You had never imagined someone just being somewhere, had you? They had always walked, or ridden…?”

          Neal looked up at her. “That is true. I had heard stories…in the Bible there are stories, some of the other – other spiritual doctrines have stories…but never for a young and foolish conman and his girl. Just for special people…as you are special, Lira.”

          “No, no, it is not me. Truly. That is a problem with your species. You find it difficult to believe that someone else does not have special gifts or special knowledge. The Chiri do have experience, that is our only difference. There are few of us, and we live a long time and we share with each other. Now I have shared with you, and Peter has proved it is not me, because I did not bring him.”

          “The Chiri lie not,” Steel said, amazed.

          “B-but this changes everything!”

          Steel gazed at Neal. “You would go back, then, if you knew you could return?”

          “Lira, dearest Lira, could I ask a huge favour?” Neal begged her. “Could I have some time with my Lord Steel? And please send Peter nowhere? Oh, I should tell _him_ not to want to go …”

          “I shall tell him, Neal. You speak to Lord Steel.” Lira turned and walked smoothly but swiftly down the corridor.

          “I would enjoy seeing that conversation!” Neal suddenly grinned, watching Lira. Then he turned and looked straight at Steel. “My Lord, pray give me some of your time?”

          “Yes, Neal. Let us go into my study.”

          Steel seated himself in his favourite chair and Neal, deep in thought, settled at his feet, one elbow casually on Steel’s knee. The two dogs followed them in and lay down behind Neal, close enough for him to lean against Des. He absently petted their large fluffy ears. Steel smiled a little. Oh, he hoped that he wasn’t about to lose Neal! He sighed, making the decision, just as he had asked it of Neal, not to plead or even ask.

          “My Lord,” Neal started, “I have given you my oath.”

          “I think there must be some limitation in space, Neal! Regardless, ask and I shall release you from it.”

          Neal looked up, startled. “Oh, but I would _hate_ to be released from it!”

          Steel blinked. “But – ”

          “I told you I am yours, Lord Steel! You would have to do something heinous to make me question that. No, but I also love June, Peter and El – all of them - and Peter has told me they need me to help with destroyed art-works and I am confident I could help.”

          “What is it that you wish, Neal?”

          “I want it all!” Neal grinned up, leaning against his knee. “I always have! It has always been my problem! I hated to see my people go, my friends and loved ones. But I thought I had to choose. And I chose the life you gave me, here. And I want not to lose any of _this!_ B-but I would like to help on Earth and dance with June and tease Peter and – oh! - see Diana’s face when I tell her she can visit Tamlin! Oh, that will be wonderful! Unless – but I need to ask your permission.

          “If I can do what Lira says I can do, and you say they never lie – can I spend some of my time on Earth, but still be welcome here?”

          “Neal, if you stole four horses and the treasure wagon – full – and rode off with Sir Mozzie and came back ten years later destitute and needing help you would be welcome here! Why would you ever think that was conditional?”

          “My good father, like the one in the Prodigal Son…! – Long story, I shall tell you sometime!” Neal squeezed Steel’s knee.

          “There is a problem with your plan, perhaps,” Steel smiled down at him.

          “What is it, my Lord?”

          “I think you would have a tendency to burn yourself out if you try and do too much on two different planets.”

          “Heckava long commute! But instant, no traffic jams! No doubt I will do that. I will have to learn to pace myself, I suppose. I want to help here, I want to continue to do my own work for you. I owe you that, at the very least!

                        “But from what Peter says many seminal works have been destroyed completely and they have no trace of them, and between us, I think Mozzie and I have studied all the truly great pieces of Earth’s painted art, many in depth, at least the ones from the – from our area?”

          “You still have to ask Mozzie.”

          “I think he will be pleased. He may stay there more than he stays here, but he respects and trusts you, Lord Steel, far more than most other humans he has met.”

          “The feeling is mutual, Neal.”

          “You would have me on those conditions? I could come and sit at your feet in the firelight, sometimes?”

          “Of course, Neal.” Steel smoothed the young man’s hair. Neal shifted, a little uncomfortable. “What do you want to ask of me, Neal? You are broadcasting loudly, you know.”

          Neal made a face. “There _is_ something. And it is possible you will feel this is more of a – a – an impertinence than falling into your room in the darkest hours!”

          “I promise not to try and destroy you, Neal!”

          “Good!” Neal said, feelingly. “Those men at the warehouse were extremely dead!

          “It is this, my Lord. Peter said I should perhaps take another name…another alias, should I go back to Earth. I wondered if you would mind dreadfully…and tell me if you would…if I…if I used your name? Just on Earth, never here! Of course! I _promise!_ But be Neal Caffrey Steel? On Earth?”

          Steel laughed, to Neal’s deep relief.

          “It is amusing that you should suggest that, Neal,” Lord Steel said.

          “Brak was pushing me to marry. I have no-one yet that I would choose to spend my life with, to love as Peter and Elizabeth love each other, and I choose not to enter into a marriage of convenience. I was forced to drink wine all my young life…now I drink tea! Surely this is more important! A life-mate should be a love-mate! As you, I want it all!”

          “Settle not for less, my Lord!”

          “I am actively looking, open to the idea. I am not old, Neal, but I do wish to have a wife to share my Keep, a son or daughter to carry on here.”

          “I have been planning to ask you something…and from what Peter said it would be anathema to you…” Neal looked a little alarmed, “…and I am not telling you, it is a suggestion.

          “I am alone and my station is lonely. I have no siblings, no parents now, and no wife as yet. I wondered if you would be opposed to being adopted by me.”

          Neal gazed at him, silent. Steel smiled again. “You are at liberty to say no, and I will not think less of you or feel you have slighted me in any way. It may be too much at the moment.”

          “I would become your adopted son?” Neal whispered.

          “Yes. My son. Neal, Mozzie and I worked out our days and the seasons of our lives, and in the natural order of things I will easily outlive you. But you have seen that at times I put my life in danger.”

          “You want to make me your _heir?”_ Neal gasped. “That is _crazy!_ – I mean, sorry, that is a strange idea, Lord Steel! I am an alien! I have no idea how to run a Keep on your planet, your politics, your rules and laws, how it would all work…!”

          “Yes, I know. You could learn. There would be conditions. You would have to agree to have Mozzie here as your partner. He has learned… ask me not why, but he has learned all the relevant laws and rights and privileges of a Lord Keeper, amongst other things…perhaps he wanted to forge the papers and the knot, I know not!

          “Neal, Jarad is a good man, a trustworthy man. He runs Sea Keep well. But he has not the vision, the depth that you and Mozzie have. Nor the drive.”

......,,..“What about your own people, family, friends – other slaves here, who are local?”

...,,.....“I have been considering this for a time. I have no close family. To choose the son of a friend would cause my other friends to feel that he was singled out. I am not known to be exceedingly close to one friend. My crusade has isolated me.

           “Most young men, who have not such a cause and are perhaps only going to inherit their keep decades in the future, are engaged in other, more entertaining pursuits. So I have more close working relationships amongst my father’s friends and the other Lord Keepers, much older than I.             

              “It was a bothersome quandary. Then the Earthlings came. I saw in each of you something I see rarely. Leadership, integrity, determination, intelligence, all together!”

          “You should have chosen Peter, then, to be your heir!”

          Steel laughed. “Do you always evaluate yourself in comparison to Peter?”

          “He has those attributes, my Lord, in greater degree than do I!”

          “Peter has many admirable qualities. I will tell you how Peter would run Steel, from what I have seen of the man: he would learn all the laws and bash his head against the political walls that maintain what is now working for the Slavers until he could no longer think! He would be miserable. He feels no loyalty to me or Steel Keep. He would try and do his duty, I believe, if I could somehow persuade him to take up the offer, and he would regret it every minute.      

                “I saw very soon after I took the knot that those avenues would not work, at least in the next five or six decades. That is why I try other ways.”

          Neal was silenced. Steel was correct.

          “Whereas I have never met two men that can go round the back of everything and think of loopholes and alternatives as you and Sir Mozzie!”

          Neal grinned at him. Then he said, “Lord Steel, while I am incredibly honoured, I must decline. I am a _criminal!”_

          “So you keep saying. I think that may be why you have these qualities!

........"Peter kept telling you that you were a criminal and it was not to your liking, I believe. So why do you keep repeating his words?

........"I will tell you now - you must not say that to me again, is that clear? And other than the little matter of the wine, the large lump of meat, moving valuable paintings of mine at your pleasure, forging some of them, breaking into the Keeper’s rooms, using a suite of rooms without my permission – oh, yes, I know about that, and we will hereafter pretend I do not, since your secrets delight you two extremely! - and committing treason by taking from my war-spoils, you are not a criminal here at all!”

          “Meat, my Lord?”

They laughed, a little hysterically on Neal’s part.

          “Neal, in all likelihood the children of my body would replace you as heirs, though I would have to be sure that they would be adequate. I plan not to die, I assure you! It is just an honour I would like to bestow on you – and on Sir Mozzie, if he would be so obliging as to accept.                                                     

             “Then if something happened to me before I have children, or before my children were grown, you could rule as brothers. If one of my sons, or perhaps a daughter, inherit, I would ask them to consult you and take your advice, at least for the first decade or two of their rule!                                                     

            “Do not become too fixated on inheriting the Keep. It is very unlikely to happen! To tell you truly, I just want you two for my sons. The other is a rear-guard in case of some disaster.”

          “Mozzie and I would be _brothers?_ He would have a family, a real, honest-to-goodness family, someone would want him that much, and not just anyone, a royal, powerful and glorious someone?” Neal knelt up, his arm still on Steel’s knee, his face filled with happiness.

          Steel smiled back. “I am not sure I agree with all your description, but you think he would not be offended?”

          “Offended? I think he would be as honoured as I feel, Lord Steel!”

          “Good! We must ask him! And then you could take my name and use it on Earth as you wish…here, you would still stay Neal Caffrey until you take the Keeper’s knot. I wish your name to be known as the great artist you truly are.”

          They gazed at each other, still thinking. Steel had talked this over with Brak and Ophera and also Leran and had visited Jarad during Neal’s exams. Jarad was just as happy not to be Steel’s legal heir, or at least not first in line to the knot, so Steel was quite content with his decision. It was now up to Neal to accept or reject.

          “Tentatively, and still with reservations as to my suitability for this estate you are offering me, I would agree, my Lord.”

          “Then you should no longer be sitting at my feet like a slave, Neal, but beside me, as a son, yes?”

          Neal sat back down, looking alarmed. “But – you are saying I may not, any more?”

          Steel laughed. “You _may_ , but I understand not why you would!”

          “I feel safe here! It shows the esteem in which I hold you, my Lord. It is nice.”

          “You wish to show submission?”

          Neal thought a moment. “I do not feel servile or that I am grovelling by sitting here, my Lord. I have never felt that you wanted that from us. B-but it is a way for me to be close to you without being impertinent and disrespectful of your position as my owner, my Keeper, my Lord.”

          Lord Steel put his head a little on one side. “You feel you are not equal to me?”

          Neal smiled a little. “That is a complex question! I am probably your superior when it comes to lying and forging, stealing and painting, my Lord!

          “I was never equal to Peter in our world’s normal system, on Earth, you know, because he was law-abiding and had resource at his disposal. Criminals can seldom call the police, the fire-brigade, the ambulance. We often pay few or no taxes directly, so we have no right to do so, either, so it works out well.

    “Again, you have never made me feel that you do not respect me: you gave me all the opportunities to study and paint! But you do own me and do a great deal of work to maintain the Keep and all the people in her. I have no problem acknowledging that I am legally owned by you by this planet’s laws, that you could do anything you liked to me or with me…I like showing you respect _and_ love, and sitting here feels the right way to do it. _Especially_ as you have never asked it of me.”

          “Then sit there any time you wish, Neal. But it is not by my order, and never has been, as you know. Sir Mozzie should be here shortly.”

          “I want to see his face when you ask him! I shall come and sit by you this time, my Lord!”

          “This whole ‘my Lord’ thing may have to change.”

          “What am I going to call you? Father, Daddy, Papa, Pops?” Steel looked horrified. “I like ‘my Lord.’ It shows respect. What did you call your father?”

          “Father, usually.”

          Neal sat down on the ottoman next to Steel, and made a face. “I prefer ‘my Lord’, if you object not. You have always been very special to me as my lord. Fathers and dads in my life have been disappointments.”

          Mozzie came in, looked at them and said, “So, you are happy with your decision to stay, even though Peter really wanted you to go?” he asked Neal.

          Neal grinned. He had forgotten how desperately, navy-blue miserable he’d been just a short while ago. “Mozzie, Lord Steel wants to ask you something very important.”

          Mozzie sat across from Steel as Steel extended his hand to the chair opposite.

          Neal folded his hands and watched Mozzie’s face with anticipation as Steel asked his permission to instate Mozzie as his adopted son and joint-heir. Every now and then Mozzie glanced across at Neal, reading him, assuring himself that this wasn’t some elaborate and horrid joke. Steel had displayed an odd line in teasing, after all!

          When Steel had finished, Mozzie was silent for so long that Neal became restive. Steel put his hand on Neal’s knee to quiet him, and Neal obeyed.

          Mozzie sat forward. “My Lord Steel,” he started, making Neal’s eyes widen, “you need to know that I am not Sir anything, I am not important and not a hero. I was abandoned as a baby, worthless. Everything else I have created for myself, and it is all layers of lies and fabrication.                                  

              “I have accepted your respect and have enjoyed it, but I have no worth as far as a background is concerned. My parents abandoned me, and were probably not good people…they may have been murderers or traitors, for all I have ever been able to discover.”

          Steel frowned a little. “Truly, Sir Mozzie?”

          “Yes, that is all true. I possess no name that I did not make up for myself.”

          “That is very sad. Yet I see no impediment in your story. What you have accomplished with no support is the more remarkable. Your heroism in following Elizabeth is still the same, your brilliance, your loyalty. I am not adopting your parents, Sir Mozzie. I wish to adopt _you_.”

          “We would be brothers, Moz!” Neal exclaimed, not able to restrain himself any longer. “Probably never rule here, probably a good thing, but we would be legally brothers! You would have a real, legal family. So would I!”

          “It is true, Sir Mozzie,” Steel agreed. “As a baby, you may have been abandoned by your parents. That man and woman knew you not, you were an infant. I am choosing you as a grown man whom I know and trust.”

          “And you would do it with me, Neal? We would be brothers?”

          “I am surprised we never forged papers making us brothers before!” Neal chuckled, and Mozzie pulled out his outsized handkerchief and wiped away tears. Neal had never seen Mozzie actually cry before, ever. He glanced at Steel and his Lord saw how significant this was.

          “Perhaps,” Mozzie sniffed, “because no-one would believe we were natural brothers, my tall, well-thatched and skinny friend!”

          “There will be some formalities, and it would be nice to have a party in the spring to celebrate, and from what we now know all your friends could attend!” Steel said.

          “Yes – and our song and acrobat troupe could perform at your friends’ parties!” Neal laughed.

          “You would be prepared to swear allegiance to me, as Neal has done?” Steel asked Mozzie, who had not been listening to them, but contemplating the proposal.

          “In case you were unaware, Lord…my Lord… I was in effect bound by the same oath because of my allegiance to Neal!” Mozzie told him. Then, “Why – why are you doing this, my Lord?”

          “Because the Keep needs an heir…or two. Until my children are grown and proven. As I told Neal, Jarad would find it difficult, he is not a good fit for the position. He loves Sea Keep and we would have to find another to take his place there! The two of you, working together, would be good at this if you decided to take on the task.

          “In addition, I have grown very fond of both of you. Seeing your easy interactions made me very aware of my isolation and loneliness. You are quite self-sufficient, Sir…Mozzie?...but Neal, despite being quite good at playing a submissive rôle, is physically affectionate. It is a clever balancing act he has managed.

          “Brak and Ophera love me, they are far from distant or cold. Brak still gives me his unvarnished advice whenever he feels I need to hear it! But they have stepped away from being my family, truly – I cannot say what is different, Mozzie.”

          “The only thing I ever cuddled regularly was a teddy-bear…oh, a soft toy, my Lord,” Mozzie warned. “I was a baby. While I respect you, you are not that soft and cuddly.”

          Steel looked down and smiled. “I am not expecting you to change, Mozzie.”

          “So you are just accepting me because you want Neal?”

          “No, no…be not ridiculous!” Steel exclaimed. “I love Neal, I love you, you are different. I also think that Neal would be truly a worse Keeper than Jarad, on his own, unless he developed more skills. I do not think you would be good, either. The two of you, complementing each other, I think the Keep would prosper.”

          “I would be pleased to go ahead, my Lord. I would love to have a father-figure I could respect, whom I think is true to his principles and ideals. There is no question for me,” Neal said.

          “From all I know of you, my Lord, I would agree,” Mozzie nodded, though the thought of this actually scared him. He had never, ever had a family. He thought he wanted to know his parents, but that seemed a vain dream. Now he was offered something perhaps better, a father and a brother. Why did it feel scary…then he knew. If he had one father, it might mean he would never find his biological parents. Which of course was foolish. He wasn’t being traitorous to a couple who had never been in his life!

          Not only that, but Mozzie had closely studied Steel’s papers – what he thought of as ‘books’. Everything he had told them was backed up in his journals and accounts. Financially, his operation was incredibly simple, when placed against parallel Earth models that were shell games inside other shells, often drenched with secrecy and corruption, tied to many other similar companies, the opposite of transparent.

          From what Mozzie could understand from the very limited view from within one Keep, the whole economic system on the planet was being kept simple and to a much larger extent than Earth, honest. Not that the seeds of disaster were not there, there was fiat money, but there was also precious metal- and human-resource-based wealth. It was as though this planet, financially, was somewhat parallel to Earth’s financial landscape in about 1900 or even much earlier.

          Of course, it must be stated here, this study had been completely illegal and surreptitious. Mozzie didn’t care. If Neal was becoming attached to Steel, Mozzie needed to know if the man was a crook. Peter would have laughed himself into paralysis at this statement, but Mozzie didn’t care whether if Steel obeyed the laws of the planet, he needed to know he wasn’t hurting people, his people especially. He needed to know Steel told the truth as he saw it to his friends.

          Neal didn’t know any of this. In light of his oath of allegiance, he would have been horrified. Mozzie didn’t care about that, either. But it was with huge relief he found that Steel, though there were some weaknesses and weirdnesses in things he did, was a simple, intelligent and honourable man. Mozzie checked his findings twice more, finding it hard to come to terms with something so unusual in his experience!

          He sat and thought, and then made up his mind. “Lord Steel,” he said, “there is something you need to know.”

          “Yes, Sir Mozzie?”

          “I cannot accept your offer. I have not been fair to you. I accessed and scrutinized all your financial dealings.”

          Neal leapt to his feet. “Mozzie – **_what! How could you?”_**

          Steel’s mouth tightened. “You did what? And why?” Both he and Mozzie stood as well. The dogs jumped to their feet and stood looking from one to another, aware of the sudden tension.

          “All your dealings, all your slave-purchases and sales…the accounts of both Keeps, back to your father’s time. I wanted to know who you are, to whom Neal was swearing allegiance.”

          “That was not nice, Sir Mozzie,” Steel said to him, obviously angry. "Why could you not have just asked to see them?"

          “From your point of view, no. From my point of view, it was necessary. I had absolutely no real interaction with you, though you had been very kind to me. But Neal is my friend. And if I had asked you, and you were a bad man, you could have shown me faked documents.”

....."That actually makes sense." Steel said, sadly. "There are bad people who would do such things."

          “He treated you as a hero,” Neal said, miserably. “You have done something I cannot condone.”

          “I accept that, Neal. You need to know I found no malfeasance whatsoever. He is worthy of your allegiance.                                                                             

         ”Remember, I said I should have shot Peter before I let him catch you. I hate that you spent one day or night in prison and then on that stupid anklet, like an elephant at an old-fashioned circus. I know Lord Steel bought you, and has been good, but I had to be sure, I could not make the same mistake. I was careless, irresponsible before. Not this time. I do what I can, in any way I can, Neal.”

          “ _I_ can not accept his offer now!” Neal whispered, miserably.

          “Wait, wait, wait! Neal – this has nothing to do with you, other than that you have abnormally loyal friends, who will break the law to try and keep you safe, even if just against emotional danger.” Steel put his hand on Neal’s shoulder. “Quiet, son.”

          “But – but **_my Lord - !”_**

          “Neal,” Steel said, turning him so he had to look at him, not Mozzie, “you have in the past been a thief, have you not? If Peter, your handler whom you loved, took a great deal of money from Mozzie... Say he had left Mozzie destitute, would you break in to Peter’s keep and steal it back, even though Peter would be horrified if he ever knew? Would you do that for your friend Mozzie?”

          Since that was similar to what had happened, though it was the Bureau, not Peter as an individual, - and they would have called it confiscating Mozzie’s wealth, not stealing! - Neal hesitated. He hadn’t stolen it all back, all that Mozzie had lost, but he would if he could do it safely.

          Mozzie said, “Lord Steel, thank you for everything. Look after Neal. He _is_ special.”

          “Where are you going to go?” Steel and Neal asked in stereo.

          Mozzie smiled. “You have given me enough time, and access to your library. I will easily survive. I did with nothing, before, remember?”

          Neal took a step closer to Mozzie. His smiled a little and said to his friend, “So we go adventuring again? Just you and me, a whole new planet to plunder!” He turned to Steel and said, “I am sorry, my Lord, I have to decline your kind offer. My first loyalty is to my friend, as his is to me.”

        Mozzie opened his eyes wide. “No, Neal, I know how important the Lord is, your painting, the children - ”

          “Compared to you and our years together – poof!” Neal made a disappearing motion with his fingers.

          Steel's eyes had become unfocussed, he sat without looking for the chair, and he waved Mozzie down. Neal realised Steel was asking them to stay, at least for a while, and his pleading look made Moz sit, on the edge of his chair and ready to abscond at a second’s notice, but still, he sat. Neal sat also, watching Steel closely.

_Steel might, after all, try and stop us leaving because of the danger or because he owns me, so we might have to escape…that wouldn’t be hard…._

          After a silence lasting at least a full minute, Earth-time, Steel looked straight at Mozzie and told him, “Mozzie, I think I would prefer you to stay. You may stay and increase my security! Considering your actions, they are no different to the two of you stealing from my spoils of war! Less bad in the eyes of the law, in fact! Tell me you changed nothing, did nothing to put me and my people at risk.”

          “Nothing, my Lord. Your books could be organised better, however.”

          “This has been surprising, shocking, perhaps.”

          The three looked at each other and Steel shook his head. “Mozzie, I suppose I should have expected you to do this if I gave you any chance at all…it is in line with what you and Neal have done. Snooping round the Keep, finding my secret passages. Taking some of the stolen wealth. It is the way you stay in control.”

          Neal looked down. Mozzie’s expression was blank.

          “However,” Steel shrugged, “my empathy is not _that_ weak - as far as I know…and please, explain if I have misunderstood!..you have not taken anything from me – other than a contentious and large piece of _meat!_ \- and have actually helped me. Not in a way I would have suggested it be done, but – am I right? Your actions were never to hurt me, nor anyone in this Keep?”

          There was a silence. Mozzie nodded, thoughtfully. Neal looked up, a little more hopeful.

          “There is a saying here that if there is a hungry wolf in your area, better to know exactly where it is…”

          “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Neal nodded.

          “I think I would rather keep you two, with all your sneaky intelligence and skills, on my side. **_At_** my side. I should have listened to Peter, I should have seen that you live by your own rules. But you hurt no-one unless absolutely necessary, and usually someone who is hurting, or might possibly hurt in the future, you or those for whom you care, is that true? And you gather information to keep you and your friends safe.                                                                        ..... “Those are good rules.”

          “Mozzie went through your private papers, my Lord,” Neal reminded him. “It is illegal…”

          “You care about the legalities, here?” Steel inquired, suddenly amused.

          “No, my Lord, not at all!” Neal answered, impatiently. “But it is also not what you do to people for whom you care…he and I are friends! I swore an oath to you…it seems wrong. Things like that we do not do. It makes us as bad as the other side.”

          Steel wondered who exactly was the ‘other side’ – the law-abiding community? The violent crooks? Or just Mozzie’s favourite ‘They’.

          “Well, not his private papers, just the financial records,” Mozzie defended himself, “except where they overlapped a little.”

          “Having spied on me, Mozzie, do you feel more or less able to have allegiance to me?” Steel asked.

          “Oh, more.”

          “So, can we go back to the question at hand…would you both like to become adopted, and become part of my family, and my Keep?”

          The two looked at each other. “I think you should apologise to Lord Steel,” Neal said.

          “But sorry I am not, Neal! I would do it again! I did it for you!”

          Neal heard his own emotional cry to Peter, so furious with him for breaking the law. _“I did it for you!”_ His mouth went dry.

          Steel said, “Neal! Can we just say that we all did what we thought was right at the time, and go from here? I do not believe that Mozzie would have gone through my papers if he did not love you. How can I blame him for that?

             “Digging up a buried midden just again releases the smell! But I would ask that in future, if you need to know something, or to go through my papers, or _anything_ , please come to me? I am not a bad man. Can you agree now, I am not a bad man?”

          “I can, Lord Steel.                                                               

          “Please, Neal. You gave me two million dollars that was money that the government would have stolen. How could I not do everything I could for you?”

          Neal shrugged, then smiled at Mozzie. “I guess I should have told you not to before you did it! I was just busy! And of course you did it for me, and I am very grateful. From that point of view it was right. I have become very attached to my Lord, and you always say I am too emotional and not suspicious and paranoid enough!”

          “I think we need a bottle of wine!” Steel said, feelingly.

          “And a pot of tea!” Neal grinned at him. “But should we not tell Mozzie about Peter’s ability…”

          “Before anything else goes awry,” Steel took the lead with conviction, “I want your oaths of allegiance…well, Mozzie’s, Neal has already given his. But let us make all lawful right now, if there are no more objections or revelations?”

          Mozzie stared at him, then said, simply, “Thank you, my Lord. You continue to surprise me.”

          “And you may share information between you, but to no-one else other than me, without my authorisation. Is that acceptable to both of you? And no more sneaking around my private papers or desks or anything such! – it shows a greater lack of respect for your father than sitting at his level!”

          The other two nodded, suddenly smiling.

          “I think I should also tell Mozzie that I have certain abilities…you saw the men in the warehouse that were burnt? I have a protection system that initiates if I am seriously threatened. It is powerful, though it does store and then draw power from my cells and can tire me, as after the attack at the warehouse…Lira can tell you more if you ask her, I just know it has saved my life, several times. If I adopt you, you will have it, too. You will learn to control it, and it seems to affect different people in different ways, but it seems it can not be used as an offensive weapon.                                                                                               

        “It may not even live within either of you. It has never gone to an Earthling to my knowledge.”

          “You are talking about another living thing, are you not, my Lord?” Neal queried.

          “Yes. It works with us.”

          “Symbiote,” Mozzie nodded. “It cannot harm us?”

          “Never has done so.”

          “Like the ear-bugs. Okay, my Lord.”

          “You are very trusting,” he smiled.

          “Yeah, so are you, taking on the two of us!” Neal pointed out.

          “After everything I have done, and yet you have accepted me, after all the times you have been good to me, I have to trust you, my Lord,” Mozzie said. “I am suspicious of everyone and everything, but sometimes, people – such as Neal and June, and now you – prove themselves worthy of my trust.”

First Neal, and then Mozzie knelt on a cushion before Steel, placed their hands together, palm to palm, fingers to fingers, and the Lord placed his hands over them. They swore allegiance in much the same words Neal had used before, and he swore to protect them from any enemy and give then succour and help even to his death. He asked them to be as sons to him, as he would be a father to them, and they said the requisite words, which came easily to their lips, each promising to be a son to him. Then he leaned forward, tipped up their chins and kissed them gently on the lips.

          Neal, surprised at the depth of his feelings at this, took a quick breath and felt Steel breathe into his mouth…warm, like strong spirit without the burn, like sunlight on a cold day, it moved through him, comforting, gentle. He looked into Steel’s eyes and his Lord smiled.

          “You are now my son, Neal. I will draw up papers, but this is the legitimate contract and covenant.”

          After Mozzie had also been claimed as Steel’s son, they stood and the Lord hugged each of them, and they hugged each other. For the first time ever, Neal didn’t feel the expected flinch from Mozzie as he hugged him. Mozzie was beaming like the sun, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother.

          Then, as briefly as possible, Mozzie was told that, according to Lira, Peter had come here on his own, and they could come and go to Earth as they pleased.

          Of all of them, Mozzie seemed the least surprised. “I have read of and seen many strange happenings. I have no doubt this can be true,” he said, and Neal looked at him with respect.

 

          Afterwards the Lord suggested they go and talk to Peter, but Mozzie held him back. “My Lord,” he said, “we have something to tell you.”

“Uh-oh!” Steel gasped, in English. It was an exclamation that had become used commonly in the Keep since the Earthlings had come, perhaps not surprisingly!

          Neal went on, “No, it is not very important to you, you have your Sensitives, and that is far better than these, but the ear-bugs talk to each other. You knew this not, but we tested them. And then we told the other Earthlings when we went to the warehouse, so we could keep in touch as we went through the building,” Neal said. “You can just sub-vocalise, ‘tell Elizabeth to come here’ – and they will. I would not use them here except in emergencies, though, to encourage the use of your telepathy.”

          “Humans have lost a lot of their abilities due to their dependence on technology,” Mozzie said.

          “But – but we would ask you if we could take our ear-bugs with us…?” Neal sounded just like a small child wheedling for a treat, Steel thought.

          “But would they choose to go?”

          “Oh, yes! We asked them, and once we told them that there was just _one_ little country, relatively little, with eleven official languages, they wanted to come!”

          “The other humans might like theirs?” Steel asked.

          “Um…we are criminals, my Lord?” Neal said, making a face. “The lawmen have such extensive resources. We thought it might be nice if we had a little advantage?”

          Steel ruffled Neal’s hair. “Then you will pick up things there and come here and have an advantage against _me!”_

          “No, my Lord! _”_ Neal promised. “Oath of allegiance! And you are our father and, my Lord, if it is not offensive, a very good friend. But Steel Keep might end up with some advantage against the bad guys, perhaps. Earth seems to have lost a great deal, though, my Lord.”

          The walked along to collect Peter, Neal telling Mozzie about the art lost in New York and their possible rôle in restoring the pieces.

          “We would be legit.?” Mozzie asked, a little horrified by the thought of such restrictions.

          “With that part of it, but I would have access to all the right materials…”

          “Hmm…nothing against practising, then, making a few copies…?”

          “I would think they would _like_ me to practise!”

          “Access to the museums, art galleries? You would enjoy that!”

          “It could be very useful.”

          “And we have a lovely big Castle Keep to store anything extra we may acquire?” Mozzie waved his hands, grinning. “And from what you say, a buyer in, say, Singapore would have no way of easily knowing if a painting is hanging in the Met, or if it is being offered to him for a reasonable price?”

          “You are right! Make everyone happy! Spread the artistic wealth! And if we can move across space, we can move from, say, a restroom into a bank vault? And from there…”

          Steel put a hand on both shoulders. “Remember, you want to do nothing that is _too_ easy. Challenge, risk, that creates the fun?”

          “Hmm…unless something is necessary,” Neal told him, “and the banks become as corrupt as they were before the war. But we will remember what you say, my Lord!”

          “We do not _need_ to, it would just be an interesting exercise,” Mozzie said.

          “And my Lord,” Neal said, as they came within hailing distance of Peter, “whoever took your large piece of meat…I repeat, **_whoever_** took it…steal it they did not! They just fed it to your dogs.”

          Steel took hold of a lock of Neal’s hair at his temple, tugged hard enough to make Neal’s eyes water and hissed, “Remember I told you that if you were my son you would be far, far better disciplined, horrid boy…?”

          Neal turned, laughing, and hugged him.

 

 

          Sometime later, there was a get-together in the Greatroom. It felt like a party, many people talking at once, everyone smiling and happy. Neal and Mozzie had their bags ready, Peter looked like a kid at Christmas, Tamlin had her own smaller parcel of clothing.

          There was food and wine laid out. Many of the other Steel Keep slaves were sitting closer to Steel, revelling in the celebration of delight.

 

Neal had enjoyed telling Tamlin what Lira had said. “You can come back and surprise Diana!” he had told her, in glee.

 

          “And now I’ve got a father and a brother, the very best anywhere!” Mozzie was enthusing, uncharacteristically.

          “And we get the greatest art forger in history to work with my wife to make the New York art scene as great as before!” Peter said, loudly, hugging Neal. “Making them both world-…or at least New-York-famous!”

          “And I get to have all my friends, wonderful studios, all the art supplies I could ever use…here and there! - and, Peter, **_better! Much better_** _!_ After all, we studied works that have been stolen over the years, I can recreate those. Such as **_The Storm on the Sea of Galilee._** You’ll like that…it’s gorgeous! His ability with light and water…!”

          “Oh, you can, can you?” Peter pretended vast suspicion, but he was too happy to keep it up. “To be honest, I don’t much care if something I’m looking at is by Rembrandt or you, if it’s that beautiful!.... Unless I _know_ about a crime….”

          “Couldn’t help yourself! Had to add that!”

          Steel was sipping tea, smiling at their excitement. He’d seen the love in Neal’s eyes. He wasn’t going to be away for long. He was never going to lose his Neal.

          “Do you realise that I’m the only one of our little group who was never owned by anyone, ever? Not the US’s (or other countries’) Corporate Machine, not the FBI, not Steel!” Mozzie was telling Peter. “I’m the only one who always remained free?”

          “You saved my wife for me. You deserve everything good that has come to you and more!”

          “So you can be Neal Caffrey Steel, now?” Tamlin asked. “Peter said you should take another name on Earth, he told me.”

          “And I’m taking my exquisite, exclusive clothes!” Neal kissed his fingers to Lucilla and her group, sitting off to one side and they waved back. “As a great artiste, these lovely clothes will be my trademark, and I shall grow my hair a little and wear my collar. Not when I’m actually painting, but when I meet all those pretentious arty-types Peter most despises!”

          “And when you’re back on Earth, Neal, June can adopt you, too…but she wouldn’t mind if she didn’t _legally,_ I’m sure, and neither would you, you can always forge papers, and call yourself Neal Ellington-Steel. Now there’s a noble-sounding name! Or even Neal Caffrey Ellington-Steel!” Peter told him, enthusiastically. “How is it…? - my world view is now completely destroyed!... You’re a damned criminal, never paid any income tax, lied and cheated and stole and forged…and you end up with a million-dollar apartment in the best area – or one of them – in New York, and heir to a Castle Keep here! I _must_ start believing in cappuccino-in-the-clouds!”

          “I told you that, Peter!” Neal pointed out. “Years ago! Our first _day!_ ”

          “Took you long enough, Peter-Suit!” from Mozzie.

Peter chuckled. “And if you two ever were going to inherit a castle, this is the one…it’s named for the two of you…Steal, Keep!”

          Neal laughed, but they had to explain the pun, which did not translate into Sheel. Then everyone chuckled except Mozzie, who had suddenly seen a disadvantage to their lives in New York.                                                   

          “No more Italian roast…” Mozzie mourned, “no more French wine…” Then his face lit up, he checked Peter was going to refill his glass and whispered in Neal’s ear, “Oh! I think I can start up a great import-export business of things I really, truly _love!_ Space and time would be warped without them! _”_

          Neal grinned and then, as Peter rejoined them, said, “Neal Ellington-Steel! I like that. Peter, Mozzie, I think I might finally be getting everything I always truly wanted.”

          “Now all you need is a nice girl,” Shiral said, wickedly.

          “Should not be hard, Neal Caffrey Ellington-Steel,” Tamlin grinned, making sweeping gestures up and down indicating Neal’s slim physique, bright, happy grin, dark curls and blue eyes. “All this and a castle to put it in!”  

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

Soppy, yes? I like happy endings! Hope those of you still with me like it!

I will post another in the series soon. From Earth, this time. (To make that clear, I always was posting from Earth…! …or was I?)

 


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